


Silent Crack Of An Empire

by Talonticus



Series: The Talon legacy [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Drama, F/F, Gen, Humor, Includes RotHC, Intrigue, Multi, Multiple established relationships, Post-class story/Pre-SoR, Romance, Sith Politics, Somewhat canon divergent, The New Empire, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-28 00:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 264,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12594068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonticus/pseuds/Talonticus
Summary: With war already raging through critical parts of the galaxy, another player has chosen to enter the field. Darth Malgus has broken away from what he perceives as a damaged husk of an empire, to create his own nation, a society with the Sith Code at its heart.As the Empire approaches chaos, due to conflicts in the Dark Council and the absence of the Emperor, many now look to important figures of stability, such as the Emperor's Wrath and Darth Imperius. Bringing change to it may no longer be an impossibility, but the dangers involved might end in catastrophe.





	1. Secession

**Author's Note:**

> **Main characters:** Zal'riva Vivees (Female Twi'lek Sith Warrior), Valcera Nih'etat (Female Mirialan Sith Inquisitor), Ktila (Female Chiss Jedi Knight), Lana Beniko  
>  **Secondary characters:** Cierah Draconius (Female Human Imperial Agent), Jovana Vlasic (Trans-female Human Bounty Hunter), Jaesa Willsaam, Ashara Zavros, Vette, Kira Carsen, Bejarah (Trans-female Rattataki OC), Lord Scourge, Darth Malgus, Darth Zhorrid, Csapla'kore'Vhako - "Lakorev" (Male Chiss Sith Lord OC)  
>  **Minor characters:** Chondrus Berani, Malavai Quinn, Broonmark, Pierce, Khem Val, Darth Marr, Darth Vowrawn, Darth Acina, Darth Decimus, Artus Lok - Mandalore the Vindicated, Francine Daimort (Female Human OC), Simiris (Female Cyborg OC), Talos Drellik, Andronikos Revel, Xalek, Iron'zeranz (Female Miraluka Jedi Consular), Lord Cytharat, Reezah Hiktesh (Female Togruta Trooper), Elara Dorne, Leontyne Saresh, Darth Arkous, T7-O1, Raina Temple, Kaliyo, Eckard Lokin, Vector Hyllus, HK-51, SCORPIO, Cipher's Menace (Halcyon Owl pet OC), Skadge, Mako, Torian Cadera, Katha Niar, Sabosen'evas'cithar - "Nevasc" (Female Chiss Ascendancy Agent OC), Hutt Archon, Supreme Mogul Toborro  
>  **Main relationships:** Zal'riva/Ktila, Valcera/Lana  
>  **Minor relationships:** Cierah/Jovana, Ashara/Bejarah, Vette/Jaesa/Kira, Francine/Simiris, Reezah/Elara
> 
> _Hello! I'm Claire Talon, or Talonticus, and this is another one of my stupidly long SWTOR fics. It's a direct continuation of both "Through passion's gateways" and "The precipice of division". I mean, you don't have to read them if you don't want to, but I suspect a lot of stuff here won't make sense in that case._   
>  _In essence, this is a fic that deals with the New Empire and Rise of the Hutt Cartel content, but I'm extending the former into an entire campaign, and RotHC is merely a small part of it. While romance is a tag, and will definitely be an element of this story, this is not a "romance fic"._   
>  _It's better to say that this is another part of my version of the SWTOR storyline, I suppose._
> 
> _As you may have noticed, there's a big character list at the very start of this note, and yes, all of them will have some kind of role, but only the ones in the "main characters" section were tagged because, for the most part, this story is about them, or at least written from their perspectives. This is why JK/SW and SI/Lana are the only couples tagged. Other couples will make small appearances too._   
>  _The "secondary characters" are ones who appear often, mostly in assisting roles, or occasionally get their own chapters. The "minor characters" appear either very few or only one time, and almost always have assisting roles._   
>  _If you want to look at screenshots of my player characters, I do have a list for them on[a blog of mine](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/talon-legacy.html)._
> 
> _Note: This fic features a black trans woman (Jovana - the Bounty Hunter) in a prominent role. I'm a white writer, so I welcome any feedback from fans of color regarding her._

**Time:** 13 years after the Treaty of Coruscant  
**Location:** The Ashas Ree system, Sith Empire-controlled space  
**Facility:** The dreadnought ‘Vying Thunder’, docked with the Fortress of Sith Emperor Vitiate

With noisy activity, imperial banners, and a constant stream of information all around him, the former Darth Malgus – now Emperor Malgus – stands inside his current flagship and gazes out through the windows of the bridge, in order to get a better view of his goal. The space station, or fortress, belonging to the leader he once followed is both a tantalizing and intriguing item to seize for many reasons. Not only will it be useful in his own campaign, due to the power and secrets it holds, but it will also stand as a monument to his first victory; hopefully one of many to follow. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get much time to revel in his inevitable success, as there are still many who wish to gain his attention.  
“Emperor Malgus!”, one of the bridge officers calls out. “The last of the enemy shuttles are departing from the station! They are on a course to likely ignite their hyperdrives and escape.”

Malgus merely snorts and waves at this person dismissively.  
“I don’t really care”, the Sith says through the speakers of his facial mask. “Let them scurry. They can be messengers to our enemies, and let everyone know what we have succeeded with this day. It would likely take too much time to chase after them, anyhow. We cannot afford to waste any.”

The officer clears their throat and salutes.  
“Yes, my lord.”

There are more officers ready to speak as well.  
“The rest of the system has been purged of enemies, from what our scanners can tell us.”

“Reports are arriving from many more allied vessels in various clusters. More are flocking to your banner as we speak, Emperor.”

It’s not possible to see much of it, but beneath his mask, Malgus is smiling. He’s pleased that his revolution is going so well, even better than he may have initially predicted; the New Empire is having a very good start. Then again, that is what his allies had promised.  
“Good. Send the coordinates for where we shall rally our troops to all of them, and make sure they don’t forget to scan for enemy ships. They cannot allow themselves to be followed.”

“Yes, my Emperor!”

After a few more minutes, once Malgus has sent out more orders for his personnel to relay, the blast doors to the bridge slides open, and a small group walks inside. Each of them are dressed in armor combined with robes, with a familiar crimson and black pattern. For the longest time, people in these types of outfits were known to be servants of Vitiate, but these ones serve a different man.  
They stop a few meters away from Malgus and kneel. The one at the front starts to speak in an even tone.  
“Your imperial majesty, we bring news from the fortress.”

Malgus turns around and faces the members of his New Imperial Guard. It is a group that he has been building for months, all of them powerful force sensitives. Not quite like the Imperial Guard under Vitiate, as they are not bound to Malgus’ will, but they remain loyal, the one he looks at now most of all.  
“Chondrus, rise.”  
The man at the front does as he’s told and removes his customized helmet, revealing the face of a blue-skinned chagrian underneath. Compared to Vitiate, Malgus believes that every species should be allowed to serve him. They all have their uses, after all.  
“I knew you would succeed, Commander. Tell me of the current situation in there.”

Chondrus inclines his head, speaking in a similar accent as Malgus, which displays his background in the Empire, likely as a former slave.  
“After your initial attack, we flooded the ship with troops and searched for any further hostiles. The last have now been cleared out. Our engineering staff have made sure that the engines of the station are in working order, and should be ready to jump into hyperspace on your command.” 

Malgus snorts amusedly.  
“Well done, Commander. This pleases me.”  
He slowly turns to view the fortress past the windows once more.  
“I enjoyed our assault on the Emperor’s dogs. It gave me a chance to test our troops against his. It appears ours have the superior skill.”

Then again, he is aware that they also had the numbers on their side. Plus, there weren’t really many of Vitiate’s Imperial Guards in there, something he found peculiar. For now, it doesn’t matter. They have what they need.  
“So did I, your majesty”, Chondrus admits.

“Good. Go tell our personnel on the fortress to be ready to leave, as we shall depart to the designated coordinates I gave them, where we shall meet the rest of our fleets. However, tell them to also await my arrival. I intend to travel there in the station.”

Chondrus bows.  
“As befits one of your position, my Emperor.  
That said, there is something else.”

Malgus arches a brow and looks at his servant.  
“Yes?”

Apparently wanting to keep it between them, the Commander closes the distance and lowers his voice.  
“We cleared out most of the enemies, but not everyone died. A lot of their pitiful guards and servants fell first, but the group known as the ‘Emperor’s Hand’ managed to flee, along with a few others of Vitiate’s top advisors.”

Not the greatest piece of news, but perhaps they should have expected as much. Malgus seems to contemplate it for a moment, and then nods.  
“Very well. Unfortunate, but I doubt they’ll become much of a problem. They were meagre before, and without Vitiate around, that is unlikely to change. Do keep an eye open for them however, just in case.”

Once more, the Commander bows, and takes a step back, so that he can raise his voice.  
“Yes, my lord. We are ready to depart whenever you please.“

A small setback won’t really do much to shake Malgus, not in his hour of victory. They have everything in their hands now, with a great opportunity to strike against any of their enemies. More will come, and without Vitiate and even some of their top members of leadership, the Sith Empire will have serious problems if they wish to counteract it. Malgus only needs to give them a push, and they will surely come to realize the most advantageous choice to make.

Sadly, things don’t go quite that smoothly. Out of nowhere, they suddenly feel a very minor vibration, which is more evident to the Force users, along with the distant muffled sounds of explosions. That is not a good sign.  
Alarms and warning lights soon flicker into existence, which gets Malgus’ attention. He and his guards all look at the officers.

“What was that?”, he asks.

A cathar woman lets her eyes scan the information on the closest screen, looking quite troubled.  
“I’m not entirely sure, but I believe we’re under attack, my lord.”

Malgus frowns.  
“Yes, I know that. By whom? From what?”

“It’s…hard to determine from exactly where it came. It does appear that a ship has slipped into one of our hangar bays, however.”

Slipped into? That sounds suspicious.  
“How is that even possible? Was there no warning beforehand? Nothing on our scanners?”

He looks over towards a male human, one of those monitoring the sensors.  
“Uh, no, my lord, there was nothing”, this man tells him.  
“This small ship, whatever it was, simply appeared out of nowhere, blew open the force field to the hangar, and then flew inside before our additional defenses could even be initiated.”

Another officer calls out.  
“Emperor Malgus, we have lost our line of communication with the indicated hangar bay! It’s still unknown exactly what’s going on over there.”

Seems pretty clear that it must be some kind of strike team, but who would be both brave and stupid enough to fly straight into a small fleet of ships, which is also filled with troops?  
Malgus looks back at the sensors officer.  
“Are there any more ships in range?”

The man searches the reports on his screen and then shakes his head.  
“Not from what our scans can tell us. Although, if they have the same technology, we can’t be sure.”

Malgus frowns. It should only be his Empire that has any stealth ships, as he confiscated the fleet directly from the imperial shipyards on Ilum. Unless…  
“Chondrus.”

The chagrian snaps to attention.  
“Yes, your majesty?”

“You and the guards should head towards the fortress once more, and prepare it for takeoff. I will go with you halfway, but first, I must investigate the hangar.”

Chondrus doesn’t look entirely pleased with what he hears.  
“My lord, you intend to fight our enemies alone? That is unwise.”

“Not alone. I will take some troops with me, those who are stationed in the nearby levels. I must find out who dares to strike at my vessel while I am still here. I have a slight notion of who it might be, and I do not want you fighting them just yet.”

If even Malgus wants to be careful here, the rest obviously realizes that something dangerous and important is going on.  
Everyone follows his instructions as they leave the bridge and run through the corridors, towards the path that shall take them to the fortress. Once they’re in a middle of a crossroads, with one route leading to the fortress and another that will take them to a passage which eventually ends in the hangar, they receive further communications from the bridge.  
“My lord? We have received updated reports of the situation.”

Malgus stops and lifts his wrist up to push the device.  
“Proceed.”

“There’s a lot of fighting going on down there, but the most worrying is how the soldiers have all relayed information that someone, a Force user of some kind, is carving a path straight through our corridors. Apparently, this individual is coming towards the bridge and nothing can stop them.” 

Chondrus furrows his brow and glances at his leader.  
“Your majesty, it might be a Sith assassin of some kind. Members of the Dark Council have many of them. It seems unwise to face this one, if they have specialized tools to target you.” 

Malgus takes a deep breath and then nods in thought. He kind of wants do it anyway, to test the might of his enemies, but he must follow his plan.  
“You’re right. It would be foolish to underestimate them here. Very well, let’s change direction and head to the fortress.”

This seems to please his guards and they escort him towards the door, instead of letting him go alone to the hangar. Curiosity does keep growing inside his mind however, about who this person might be. Sith are powerful, yes, but to be able to fight this many soldiers and disable lots of defenses? This sounds like someone on the level of a Dark Councilor, and there are few outside of that institution who have this kind of power, much less ones that would endanger themselves for the supposed honor of the Empire. Marr, perhaps? No, he would not be this foolish nor hasty. 

Interestingly, he does not need to continue seeking for answers, as it soon finds him instead.  
A few hundred meters behind them, they hear sounds, crashing noises and some minor explosions. Both he and his guards stop, turning to wait and see what’s going on.  
Suddenly, carved up droids and bodies of pierced soldiers flies out from a corridor, crashing straight into the wall. After that, a Sith pureblood gets knocked backwards, being unable to remain standing without assistance. He’s bleeding, just barely holding onto his lightsaber, as he breathes heavily and tries to get it up in time to defend himself, but it’s not enough. 

Another individual takes several confident steps out from it and uses a purple-colored lightsaber to slice a wound straight across the Sith’s chest. He is completely unable to defend himself and falls in a single blow. This does give the rest of the people a good view of their attacker, and they realize that this is no mere assassin.  
A tall twi’lek with red skin, black tattoos filling her face and lekkus, purple eyes, and a long short-sleeved grey coat somewhat covering the heavy armor beneath. The red mark of the Empire is visible on the back of the coat, but that disappears when she turns towards her enemies, and rage fills her vision.

“MALGUS!”

The Emperor’s frown deepens, and he swiftly moves his hand towards his belt.  
“Wrath?”

Zal’riva lets out a battle shout before she starts running straight for him. Her path is not left unobstructed however, as the corridors in between them have several more soldiers and droids trying to stop her. Unfortunately, they underestimate her.  
A couple of droids tries to get in her way, but she doesn’t even have to slow down in order to slice them apart and get past them, letting them explode behind her. The soldiers who try to fire at her either get their blaster shots knocked back at them, get pushed away with the aid of the Force, or get grabbed by her personally, so that she can use them as weapons and toss them into their allies. 

A couple of other New Imperial Guards tries to join in on this effort, and does have the most success, but their assumptions are no better than the rest. A red aura starts to glow around her with each new victory, and the power emanating from her is so overwhelming that the guards can only barely hold her blows back. Eventually, her blade carves into them, and she flings their corpses away once she’s done, continuing her advance. She is like an unstoppable machine, letting nothing delay her from her goal. This is the Emperor’s Wrath they have all come to know through propaganda.

At the same time, Malgus has not yet moved from his position, despite the urging from his guards. He needs to see this, needs to let her reach him. He will not run, not yet.  
Eventually, there is nothing more in her path, and Zal leaps forward, crashing into Malgus, who gets his lightsaber up just in time to block hers. They stand there in front of each other, their lightsabers struggling for dominance, while their eyes remain interlocked.

“Wrath! I see you chose not to cooperate with the Blazing Pendulum.” 

Zal grits her teeth. For once, she doesn’t actually have to look down, as they’re about the same height.  
“You thought you could capture me, you bastard?! Do you know who I am?!”

She raises her foot with such speed and precision that he’s not ready for it, and therefore gets it right into his chest, being knocked backwards. Luckily, he keeps his balance, as he prevents her from gaining the upper hand. Simultaneously, Chondrus and the other guards get ready to battle Zal, but Malgus waves them off.  
“No! Stay out of this!”  
Shortly after, he is forced into a defensive role once Zal attacks him again, and the duel of strikes proceeds.  
“Wrath, you must stop this! Don’t you see what’s going on? We should be on the same side!”

“Have you gone insane, Malgus?!”

“Insane? You think my current actions lack sanity? I am doing something to change the Empire, just like you surely want to as well!”

It is not just their voices that are echoing through the corridor, but the roaring of their lightsabers. This duel reaches more than their weapons, as it’s a struggle between two powerful minds as well. It is felt through the Force by the guards, as if the very air vibrates. The guards may be strong, but both of these two are beyond their levels, which can be seen in the amount of destruction they create. The lightsabers carve open gaps in the walls and floor, the sparks burn the surface, and even cracks can be spotted in the metal, due to the sheer mental pressure from these two forces brutally slamming into each other.

“Change it?!”, Zal asks. “Don’t you mean that you intend to tear it apart? Because that’s what’s happening here! You are creating chaos that will do nothing but bring harm to everyone!”

“It will only bring harm if they oppose me! Vitiate have given up on us, given up on you! If he’s not dead, then he will be soon, and everyone will forget he was ever here. You have a chance to make this right, and aid me in forging a new future for all of us! And this time, we shall not be divided, but united behind a single cause, no matter origin or species!”

She wishes she could just punch him and make him shut up, but it’s not that easy. Malgus is an incredibly difficult opponent, and despite her eagerness to take him down, his strength is near equal to hers. Of course, her powers allow her to push her limits even further, but Malgus is able to hold it back for now.  
“I represent the strength of the Empire and the possibility for equality! What you’re doing will tear us apart, create more antagonism! More fighting won’t solve this!”

“That is what you believe, but you’re wrong, Wrath! The very fact that your role demands sacrifice and death should be proof enough! Surrender to me, and I shall give you the purpose you seek, the equality you crave. You know that won’t happen with the Dark Council, because they do not care!”

She groans in frustration, not only because she can’t defeat him, but because she knows there is some truth in his words. Her struggles may be futile. Malgus does keep up with her pace rather well, being a master on the battlefield, but the more frustrated she grows, the more energy fills her.  
“You’re saying I should just give everything up, after all I’ve fought to evolve the Empire? How can I even trust that you will make it better? You are a warlord, Malgus, not a revolutionary!”

He snorts and manages to deflect one of her strikes. While this surprise her, he tackles her into the wall, and the two ends up with their lightsabers close to each other again, with him having the upper hand this time, as he stares into her eyes. She finds it somewhat unnerving, seeing how affected he is by the dark side in comparison to her.  
“Surely, you must realize the truth, Wrath. The Emperor has left you, the Dark Council squabble endlessly among themselves, and we’re becoming rudderless. The Empire and the Sith will crumble unless we follow what we were meant to, what we’ve always been created to do. That’s why I do this now, and why I accept anyone under my rule.”

Zal feels her body straining as she tries to keep herself intact, realizing that Malgus has a lot of hidden strength underneath the surface.  
“Yes, as long as all they want is conquest! Do you really believe that’s what I want? If you do, you never knew me to begin with.”  
With a sudden and surprising surge of strength, she roars and uses the Force to knock him backwards, at least enough to free herself and try to return the fight on an even footing.  
“Either stand down and surrender to me, or I will be forced to kill you right here and now!”

Malgus can often be seen simply using one hand in combat to wield his lightsaber, while the other tends to be for wreaking havoc with the Force, but in this fight, he keeps both hands on the hilt of his blade, parrying each of her strikes. Obviously, she does the same.  
“Then let me give you a similar ultimatum – join me, or find yourself on the losing end of history.”

“That will only occur in whatever delusional universe you have in your head, Malgus!”

She continues her attacks, not caring for any more words he has to give her, which makes him realize that she will not accept what he has to offer, not here.  
“Very well. I am sad it has come to this. You could’ve been a useful ally, but I suppose we shall have to settle this on the battlefield at some point.”  
After he has deflected another attack, he manages to slightly slip past her defenses and punches her side. It doesn’t really bring her down, but she does hesitate for a moment, which allows him to gather power and unleash a telekinetic strike through usage of the Force, sending her flying backwards. He then turns and runs.  
“Imperial Guard, with me!”

Zal stumbles and falls backwards, but manages to flip around before she lands on her back. When she gets up on her feet, he’s already several meters away, his guards following him.  
“Come back here, you coward!”

They all run for the entrance to the fortress, but with how quick Zal can be, it would appear that she’ll probably catch up to them. That’s when two of the other guards separate themselves from the group.  
“We shall protect your escape, my lord!”

They lift their weapons – a vibroblade and a techstaff – which won’t do much to actually prevent her entirely, but it does slow her enough for Malgus, Chondrus, and another guard to get past the airlock and into the fortress. The Emperor stops for a moment, glancing over his shoulder towards Zal and the guards.  
“Your service to your Empire shall be remembered.”

That’s when the door closes, and Zal roars after it. She doesn’t hesitate, not having time to fight these two, so she shoves them aside with a wave of Force energy, before she sprints for the door. At first, she hammers it with her fist, but as this is a futile effort, she spins her blade around, trying to slice it open. Sadly, all she can see is how the fortress detaches itself from the dreadnought, and the swirling cape of Malgus as he walks away. The sight is so infuriating that she does not even remember the next few seconds.

Once the two Imperial Guards get up to attack her again, she is not kind nor merciful. Without even using her lightsaber, she turns around, grabs their weapons and disarms both of them through sheer strength, physically yanking them away. After that, she simply lifts these tools and uses them as blunt instruments to push her opponents back, before she tosses the weapons away.  
She charges the closest guard, grabbing their arm to keep them still, raises her own foot, and then uses it to break their leg. The cracking sound is almost as loud as their scream. After that, she grabs their helmet and slams their head straight into the wall, fracturing their skull.

The second guard tries to rise and get revenge for their fallen comrade, at least being brave enough not to flee, but Zal is practically invincible at this stage. Before they even reach her, she lifts her hand to their throat, raises them into the air, and drops them hard to the ground, breaking their back in the impact. Showing no mercy once more, she lowers her foot to them and breaks their neck on the floor. 

In another bout of anger, she rushes back to the door, hoping to continue carving it open with the lightsaber that is still stuck in it.  
During this time, more soldiers and droids have entered the corridor, and while she doesn’t have time for them, they still want to fight her. She considers ignoring them, or taking out more of her rage on them, but that’s when other weapons arrive to counter it.

Another squad, from a different Empire, ambushes these troops, and unleashes a flurry of attacks. It is lead by Lord Jaesa Willsaam, assisted by Major Malavai Quinn, Vette, and Broonmark. They may not be as brutally efficient as Zal, but there’s very little that these soldiers can do against this strike team, one of the best in the Sith Empire.  
During their assault, it’s Quinn who looks up to view Zal.  
“My lord! My lord, you must stop! It’s already too late. The fortress has already disengaged, and we can do no more to prevent its escape.”

Zal merely grits her teeth, and raises her leg, kicking the door, which creates a dent in it.  
Once she’s done with her opponents, Jaesa runs up to her former teacher.  
“Master, please, calm down! You have done enough. Malgus is gone.”

Hearing both Quinn and Jaesa has an effect on her, with her inner rage being soothed enough for her to think clearly. Zal starts to pant, before she turns to look at them, her lekkus twitching in annoyance.  
“I’m sorry. I was too slow and not smart enough to take him down. He slipped out of my grasp, despite that I almost had him.”

Vette finishes the last of their opponents with a few quick blaster shots, before she spins her pistols around and puts them back in their holsters.  
“Hey, it’s fine, Zal, don’t worry about it. At least we’ve given him a message, right? He’ll realize that you’re gonna come after him sooner or later. That asshole won’t be able to win so easily.”

Quinn nods in agreement.  
“Indeed. This was only the beginning, my lord. We will get to him.  
If I may make a suggestion, I believe we should at least try to lock down the bridge of this ship, and see what information we can attain from the databanks in here.”

Zal takes a deep breath, shuts off her lightsaber, and nods in confirmation.  
“Of course, you’re right. Proceed with this immediately.”  
She then raises her wrist and activates her comm unit.  
“Rogue Warden? This is Wrath. I’m sad to say that we didn’t get him. He was too close to an exit.”

On the other side, they hear the familiar voice of Cierah, formerly Cipher Nine, who currently waits inside her ship, the one that took Zal’s team here.  
“I see. That’s unfortunate, but not unexpected. I’m impressed you even got as far as you did.”

Zal snorts and shakes her head.  
“You doubted me?”

“I’ve never quite seen you in this type of battle.”

“Well, you can drop Captain Pierce off and leave. We will take control of this ship for the time being, and then make new plans after that.”

“As you wish, but there’s something you should know before we depart.”  
Cierah pauses for a few seconds, possibly to confirm something, before she continues.  
“We received news from Dromund Kaas while you left. There has been an attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Zal can be kinda brutal in a fight. Also, not every chapter will have battles like these. In fact, they're usually pretty rare._


	2. Hearth ablaze

The surface of Dromund Kaas is on fire this day.  
As people around the various cities on the planet either got up, went to sleep, or continued whatever task they were doing during their waking hours, everything erupted into chaos around the same time. Ships from several spaceports and locations in orbit took off for the skies, all of them aiming for the designated targets – settlements and installations on their own capital world. 

Just a few hours ago, a short battle had been waged around the world, the first one on this planet in ages. The Republic had attacked it over a year ago, but that did not have the same shocking effect as this assault. No one had been prepared for surprise bombardments from their own ships, which immediately caused a lot of damage before loyal ships could move to intercept.  
The surface itself was not left alone, of course, as a few battles were and still are occurring, mostly between soldiers and the traitors. Whatever Malgus started, it is already having an effect. The majority stay true to where they should be, but ones choosing to switch allegiance are still numerous.

Above Kaas City, there are two cruisers stationed in perfect positions to bombard the city, something which is currently being attempted, but the effect has been delayed. Thankfully, the city has shields, something that was initiated rather swiftly when reports came in of what was happening. Counterattacks are being prepared, but for now, the ships linger, waiting for the equally perfect time to strike. This might actually happen, unless something is done.

In the outskirts of the city, a small group can be seen running through it. Ashara Zavros, Bejarah, Khem Val and a bunch of soldiers all follow the one they’re being led by - Darth Imperius, or Valcera Nih’etat, member of the Dark Council. She’s one of the few leaders who can almost always be found inside the capital city.  
Along the way, they stumble into a lot more chaos. People are moving around hurriedly and erratically, either panicking or hoping to find shelter. Soldiers nearby are either trying to establish order, get into position to defend the city, or take down traitors. 

The team took a speeder towards the southern end of the city, but had to stop at a distance, as they’ve received reports of people using heavy weapons to shoot down vehicles. They’re not gonna take any chances.  
The area they’re rushing towards, and which they soon spot, is a building that they know contain the generators to the shields. They hoped reports had been wrong, but it appears that a group of traitors have seized it, and are now placing explosives within. Even if there are backups, they can’t lose shields for a second, or a great amount of damage will be caused.

Once they’re in range, it appears that the traitors have noticed the approach, which is why they start to fire their weapons. Valcera grits her teeth, ducks, and gestures at some walls and metal fences nearby.  
“Get behind cover!”

With increased speed, they all reach what barricades they’re provided with. Shortly after, they return fire. The rattataki mercenary, Bejarah, takes a couple of shots at the closest opponents, before she hides behind the fence and gazes at their leader.  
“Val, we can’t stay here for too long! If they’re about to die, they might try to blow the whole thing, to go out in a blaze of glory. We need to act _fast_.”

Val frowns as blaster fire whizzes past above them.  
“I know that, but we have to be smart about this! If we rush in and make a mistake, this entire city will be at risk. We need a plan.”

“Yeah, but if we don’t act quickly, there’s not gonna be time to consider anything. We’ll all be dead!”

This isn’t the first time Val is in a tight situation, as she has been involved with many combat scenarios in the past, but it’s rare that she finds herself in a spot where she can’t simply rush in and take down all of her opponents with raw power. In fact, her lightning would probably just create more damage at this point.  
Thankfully, she has others there to assist her, and Ash turns to address her now.

“Master, I can lead a few of our troops around the back and flank the building. All we need is a distraction.”

Val shares a brief look with her, before the Councilor sweeps the district with her gaze. It is true that there’s a lot of tall structures nearby and they would probably go mostly undetected, if they act with stealth and wit. But how will they get there?  
Taking a deep breath, she nods sharply.  
“Very well, I will provide you with a solution, then. Soldiers, go with my apprentice and Bejarah around the western side of this area. I will remain behind and distract these bastards.”

The troops don’t hesitate, merely inclining their heads in recognition of their superior’s orders. This is probably less risky anyhow, so it’s not a difficult one to follow. Ash, on the other hand, is not as confident, which is why she aims a worried gaze towards her.  
“But, master, won’t that mean you’ll fight alone? That’s too dangerous.”

A little bit of amusement plays across her features while she snorts.  
“Alone? Have you already forgotten about him?”  
She nudges her head in the direction of the closest building, where they can see the dashade hiding behind it.  
“Besides, my powers are more than enough for these scoundrels. They work better when I have more space to operate. Don’t worry, Khem and I will deal with the traitors on this side.”

Ash sighs and shakes her head, but Beja smiles at Val.  
“Right, we’ve got a plan then. Let’s do it”, says the mercenary. “Whenever you’re ready, Val.”

The mirialan directs her eyes towards her companion nearby.  
“Khem, when I give the signal, charge the soldiers behind the first barricade.”  
The dashade doesn’t even hesitate as he furrows his brow and clenches his clawed hands around his large vibrosword.

Val raises her own hand, summoning energy into it, which appears like constantly flickering lightning. Usually, she would try to utilize it to attack someone, but this time, she needs to mold it into something different. She doesn’t do this all too often, but once she sees the shape in her mind, the lightning transforms and expands, creating a ball. Spreading her fingers even further, it grows larger and larger until she has surrounded herself in a shield. She performs the same procedure once more, but she launches the second and attaches it to Khem.

“Go!”, she exclaims and Khem emits a brief roar, before he leaves his hidden position in a very swift manner and charges the closest opponents. It happens so suddenly that they’re not prepared for the first attack, giving Khem a free shot to almost completely slice one in half. Khem is not really imperial and therefore shows no remorse.  
At the same time, Val glances at the rest of the team.  
“It’s your turn! Move!”

None of the others see the need to hesitate either, as they hurry towards their own path.  
“Be careful!”, are the only words Val hear, obviously spoken by Ash.

Now that she doesn’t need to hold back any longer, though, Val rises and lets a few shots bounce off her shield, while she prepares her retaliation. Lightning appears in her hands once more, surging over her arms and begins to envelop her.  
“I shouldn’t have to explain the foolishness of opposing a Dark Councilor, but maybe you have forgotten the truth. Let me offer a demonstration.”

Her hands shoot forward, and energy erupts from both of them. The lightning hits the first person, piercing them immediately, but does not stop. It hits the next soldier nearby, and then the next after that, and then two more. The attack from her other hand does the same. The chain attack is so powerful that none of the soldiers can move or evade, merely shaking and shivering in pain until they fall to the ground. It’s hard to say whether they’re dead or not, but they’re out of the fight, bringing down almost a whole dozen of them. Sadly, there are many more, but this was a good start.

The plan proceeds rather spectacularly like this for a short while longer, but Val should’ve known it wouldn’t last forever. From another alley, on the opposite end where her team disappeared, comes a small squad of soldiers, aiming their rifles at Val.  
“For Emperor Malgus!”, one announces, before they start firing.

Val grits her teeth and creates another shield to protect herself, trying to retreat behind some other cover.  
“Khem, pull back! I need you here!”

She can’t see him, but she can definitely hear him and the growl he lets out as he gets out of range from his current opponents.  
Even though he does manage to assist her in time, they are not in a safe position yet. From a third path to this area, she hears the igniting of lightsabers and a few Sith step into visual range.  
“That’s Darth Imperius!”, one of them say. “Let’s strike a blow for the New Empire!”

“For Malgus!”

Val frowns and grabs the lightsaber from her belt.  
“How many bastards does he have around here?”

She keeps two back with swift shots of her lightning, but has to defend herself with the lightsaber against the third who avoids these strikes. Their weapons collide several times in just a few seconds. Val is better at using her Force at range than fight in such close quarters, but she can hold her own well enough. That said, can she really do it against three of them?  
Or maybe that was a miscalculation. She hears a noise from behind, as another weapon lights up.

“Hold her still”, she hears a deep voice saying. “I’ll deal with her.”

Val only has enough time to look over her shoulder and sees that a Sith pureblood is closing in on her, probably aiming to cut her down from the back. Not exactly the most honorable or brave way to act, especially as she’s outnumbered, but she will have to acknowledge their fear of having to fight against one of her strength and reputation. And how is she supposed to deal with it? Maybe if she tries to push her closest opponent away, she could possibly have enough time to swirl around and block this newcomer. But what if she’s too late? And what happens when she gets all four from every corner? 

While she hesitates, the weapon gets further and further, eventually making her run out of time. Or that’s what she assumes.  
At virtually the last second, Val hears the thundering noise of another blade starting up, and due to all the chaos around her, she hadn’t noticed how backup had arrived. Her ambushing opponent’s lightsaber is parried by another similar weapon, and when Val glances over her other shoulder, she sees a familiar figure.  
Blonde shoulder-length hair stirs in the wind, revealing the fair-skinned individual it adorns and the yellow eyes. Around the body hangs black clothes combined with green, as well as the cape which flaps behind her. 

Val widen her eyes.  
“Lana!”, she exclaims both happily and in surprise.

The advisor’s eyes focus on her opponent, but her lips do curl into a faint smile.  
“Don’t mind if I barge in, do you?”  
It appears she is not alone either, as a platoon of imperial soldiers enter the area, providing support for the Sith and Khem against the traitors.

The Councilor emits a brief snort and turns to her own foe, making the two women almost stand back to back.  
“You always have pretty impressive timing!”

Lana deflects her opponents blade and then ducks beneath the follow-up attack which she predicted, giving her free range to strike however she pleases. She delivers a quick punch to the pureblood’s lower abdomen, making him buckle, before she swings her blade to carve into his side and takes few steps forward. When she’s on the other side of him, she turns the blade around and stabs it behind her, piercing his back.  
While she turns to face him, she sees how he’s too stunned and damaged to move, just about to fall down. As there are two more approaching Val, she realizes that this is a good opportunity and therefore uses the Force to shove him away, knocking his body into his comrades. 

Simultaneously, Val keeps defending herself against her own opponent, a human, who seems particularly eager to fight her. Unfortunately, it appears this woman underestimates her, after she didn’t provide much of a challenge to begin with. Well, now that she’s not as outnumbered, that will change.  
After gathering energy while parrying a few attacks, she launches a stray surge of electric power towards the woman’s feet, unbalancing her. Once she sees her chance, Val shoves the woman backwards with a telekinetic push. Obviously, the opponent tries to guard herself against this, but that is arrogance. 

“You think your strength is enough to defend against me?”  
As she sees how Lana gets into combat with the other two, Val focuses all her strength on this one. She shoots another lightning bolt at the woman’s hand, loosening the hold on the weapon and then pulls it to her, tossing it aside.  
“You have no idea who you are facing.”

The woman suddenly widens her eyes as she feels how the pressure of the Force is pushed all over her body and while she tries to use her own mental gifts, it’s futile. Val only has to look for the right moment, the little gap in those defenses. When she finds it, she clenches her hand and the other Sith feels a tightening of her throat, as if someone grips and then raises her into the air, like nothing more than a toy. It’s rare to witness Sith getting the chance to do this to one another, due to the struggle between minds, but the level between these two is too massive for there to even be a fight.

Val scowls and keeps squeezing for a moment, as if to teach her a lesson; a very painful one.  
“If I was anyone else, your skull would soon be sitting on a pike or your body would be scorching on the ground, becoming food for the rats. Luckily for you, I still believe you can find the right path.”

She flings the woman aside, into a nearby wall, which instantly knocks her out. Shortly after, she rejoins Lana to fight the last two remaining Sith. Either Val or Lana could probably have taken both of these on their own, but now, this duo will have to face them together. It isn’t even a fair contest.  
Lana decides to disarm her opponent before she executes them, by cutting off their weapon hand and then decapitating them. She has little time for mercy.  
On Val’s side, she chooses the option of survival once more, overwhelming her opponent with weaker lightning strikes until their defenses drop. When the last one is up against the wall, breathing heavily, she lifts her hand and flicks her finger into the air, using the Force to hit them in the head and knock them unconscious.

With two dead and two sleeping Sith, Lana and Val face each other, weapons still in their hands – a red one in the former and an orange in the latter. Lana glances at their opponents and shakes her head.  
“You should’ve killed them, you know.”

Val flashes her a small smirk.  
“With how overwhelming we were, you don’t think that would be bullying?”

Lana rolls her eyes.  
“Sometimes, you’re too nice for your own good.”

With a chuckle, Val lowers her weapon and approaches her companion. She would shut the lightsaber off, but they are still in a combat zone. She eventually gets in range enough to lift her hand to Lana’s chest, pulling her down and planting a short and yet firm kiss on her lips.  
“I’m glad to see you here”, she says quietly, once it has ended.

The advisor smiles back at her.  
“I had to be. Someone had to come assist you, in case you attempted to do something foolish.”

“Tsk, when have I ever acted unwisely?”

Lana arches her brow skeptically.  
“I sincerely hope that’s a rhetorical question.  
I was actually fairly disappointed that you did not send me a direct message. Had to hear what you were doing from Francine.”

“Well, true, I suppose. But look on the bright side – at least I didn’t go fight these people alone for a change!”

There’s a brief shake of her head, before Lana redirects her eyes towards the building with the generator.  
“As much as I’d like to dismiss this notion, you made the right decision. This needed to be dealt with.”

Val nods in agreement, following her girlfriend’s gaze. There’s very little resistance left on the outside, leaving everything to those who still fight within.  
“I left Ash and Bejarah to flank our enemies and hopefully clear them out.”

“I know. I saw their movement from afar when we were approaching the area.”  
She glances sideways at her companion.  
“Can’t help but notice that you thought it was a good idea to remain behind with only you and Khem.”

“What, you thought they could kill me?”

“…Val, there were a few dozen of them and two of you. You know I have faith in your abilities, but even you have limits.”

Val emits a brief laughter, walking closer once more and lifts a hand to caress Lana’s cheek.  
“Perhaps, but I’m lucky enough to have a guardian with a sixth sense for when I’m in danger.”

“Well, this guardian would prefer if you tried to not deliberately get into self-destructive situations all the time.”

“Then how would I get to see you perform what you do best? Well, your second-best skill.”

Another minute goes by, where they have to do nothing more than watch the perimeter and wait for their comrades. One of the loyal soldiers tries to apply kolto to Khem, who took a bit of damage, but the dashade growls, thinking he doesn’t need it.  
Val won’t lie and say that she isn’t worried, of course, much of that probably being due to feeling helpless. She prefers to be in control of every scenario she enters, being the one to make decisions or stop these things from happening. During this particular event, however, it would’ve been too foolish to go and leave the others. Her place was here, as she was the best choice for keeping these people at bay.

Eventually, a noise from inside the structure gets their attention, but not the type they’d like to hear. A few minor explosions occur in the upper floors, making them hold their breaths, their hearts almost stopping.  
Thankfully, the whole place does not come down. Instead, they see how an imperial soldier, probably one of the traitors, goes flying out of a window pretty far up and crashes right into the ground several meters down, dying on impact.  
Two seconds later, Bejah pokes her head out, smirks, and waves at those below.

“Sorry about that. The guy got a thermal detonator off before I took him down. Hope it didn’t scare ya.”

Both of the Sith below sigh in relief. Val rolls her eyes and looks up at her friend.  
“We’re fine. Can you finish this battle and be done with these bastards before we lose the shields for real?”

“On it!”

It only takes another minute or so for more movement to appear, this time from the front door. It slides open and Ash walks outside, flanked by loyal troops. Neither of these people look to be injured, which isn’t much of a surprise. Ash always was a very talented fighter.  
“Master, we’ve secured the facility. The majority of the traitors have been killed, but what few remain alive have been captured. We should extract them to holding cells as soon as possible.”

Val inclines her head.  
“I agree.”  
She gestures at the troops Lana brought with her.  
“See to it.”

The soldiers salute her. They may have arrived with Lana, but Val is a Dark Councilor. You don’t oppose someone of that position.  
“Yes, m’lord!”

Once more, Lana looks somewhat skeptical of this decision.  
“Are you sure that is wise? Is it not preferable to merely execute them? They’ve left us behind, Val.”

The mirialan shakes her head quite confidently.  
“No, that will not be necessary. I would rather take prisoners. They are still imperials and we should treat them as fairly as we can.”

Lana takes a deep breath and slowly exhales.  
“I am not a Dark Councilor, so this is your decision, but I think you should be careful. These people can’t be trusted, nor can the Sith you spared.”

“I’m not saying we should trust them, darling, just that we shouldn’t kill them right away. If we hold them, they might eventually have a change of heart and atone for their mistakes.”

“If you say so. I suppose they won’t be much of a threat, at least.  
I received news before I left the Citadel – more of the traitors' ships have been leaving the system. They are outnumbered and therefore can’t stay and fight for long.  
For the most part, they merely bombarded the territory they were stationed by, before departing. It created a lot of damage, but not necessarily something we can’t handle.”

Val furrows her brow and snorts.  
“Cowards. Creating chaos and then running.”

“True, but also smart. If they had sacrificed themselves, the New Empire would’ve lost assets as well. Now, they have more ships to add to their fleets.”

“I know”, Val states with a sigh. “But I wish this wouldn’t have happened. We will have to make a lot of repairs now. A waste of resources, just what Malgus wants.”  
She looks distant for a moment while she raises a hand to rub her chin.  
“We will have to speak with the navy commanders in orbit, see if anyone managed to track those who escaped.”

Lana nods.  
“Good point. I’ll see what I can do.”

Soon after this moment, Bejarah walks out of the building, seeming at least mildly satisfied with their success. She strides up to Ash first, kissing her cheek, which brings a faint smile to the togruta’s features.  
“Did you see some of the fireworks?”, Bejarah asks Val.

Val rolls her eyes as she and Lana come closer.  
“Yes, and they were not particularly satisfying. If you had asked, I would’ve told you I wanted to feel secure in our victory, not fear for our imminent destruction.”

The mercenary grins at her.  
“Good, keeps ya on your toes.”  
She then raises her hand to indicate a device she’s holding.  
“Oh yeah, found this.”

The Councilor tilts her head curiously, studying the circular and blinking object.  
“A comm unit?”

“Yeah, and it’s ringing. Want me to answer?”

Val shares a glance with Lana, before both make the same decision.  
“Interesting. Yes, let’s see who wishes to speak.”  
Bejarah turns the device around, so that it’s directed towards her boss, before she initiates the connection. A hologram appears above it, depicting a figure in long robes, black hair and a very pale complexion. The sight brings surprise onto Val’s expression.  
“Darth Zhorrid?”

The Sith on the other side of the call, another member of the Dark Council, in charge of Imperial Intelligence and the Outreach Bureau, gazes at Val with mild disappointment.  
“Hmph. I was expecting at least a few of my soldiers to have remained, but perhaps that was a bit too presumptuous. Never mind.”  
Her expression surprisingly enough alters into something smugger.  
“Perhaps I should have anticipated that someone so powerful would prevent my troops from succeeding. You were not on my list of immediate worries, but I should clearly have put you higher up.”

In response, Val folds her arms and frowns.  
“What the hell is going on, Zhorrid? Are you behind all this?”

“Of course, I am. Who else would know where to strike and have the necessary means to perform the act?  
I had hoped to make a critical blow on the Empire’s resources by bombarding Kaas City before I departed, but perhaps I should be satisfied that the surrounding industrial activity is being torched.”

What has happened here? Where did the Zhorrid she allied with months ago turn to? Was that an act all along or has something changed?  
“So, you’ve joined Malgus; turned traitor. You’re leaving the Empire behind.”

“Obviously, and honestly, so should you, Imperius.”

Val scoffs.  
“Excuse me? Have you gone mad? We are members of the Dark Council, Zhorrid! We are its leaders.”

“I disagree wholeheartedly, and I believe I have done the exact opposite. The truth has dawned on me – Malgus is the future.  
You must’ve seen it yourself, no? The Council is inefficient, incapable of making reasonable and beneficial decisions. And the Emperor? That bastard no longer cares for us. Why should he matter?  
This is our chance to strike out on our own, to actually lead this nation somewhere.”

Well, she won’t argue about the Emperor, as Val has never liked him to begin with, but that doesn’t put them on the same side.  
“What, behind the warmonger Malgus? That’s preposterous! How can that be a future that anyone accepts? I thought you wanted to help change things here.”

Zhorrid frowns back at her.  
“I do, but I’m tired of the Dark Council, Imperius. They have hurt me enough already, and I will not give them another chance! Never again!”  
She takes a deep breath, hoping to calm some of her building rage.  
“Malgus has promised us a better way, and for once, I have chosen to trust this Sith. I had hoped you would see the same truth as well, after how much opposition you have had to face, but I suppose you’re still blind.” She mirrors Val’s previous notion, and scoffs.  
“If you wish to linger here with these other fools, feel free to do so. Perhaps we shall see each other one last time before I shatter you on the battlefield.”

Val’s scowl grows even deeper and she grits her teeth, before she yanks the device from Bejarah, by using the Force, and then flings it up into the air, shooting a quick electric charge into its middle, destroying it instantly.  
“That backstabbing little arse. I should have known…”  
She raises the hand to her temples and rubs them slowly.  
“Soldiers, take care of the mess around the facility. We’re done for now.”

She turns and walks away. In the sky, she notes how the cruisers are leaving the vicinity of the city, disappearing into space.  
One who does not let her be alone however, is Lana, who follows and plants a hand on her shoulder.  
“Are you alright?”

“Not really”, she says while sighing. “This was not the blow the Empire needed. Now I wonder how many more of the Dark Council have chosen to betray us.”

Uncertainty flickers in Lana’s gaze, wishing she could say or do more, but this is outside of her jurisdiction. The Council is Val’s domain.  
“What do you plan to do now?”

“I don’t know yet. After I’ve made sure we start our repairs, I will have to contact some allies. Perhaps they have better news for me.”


	3. The way forward

As the dust on Dromund Kaas is settling and while repair efforts have definitely begun on pretty much all sections that were damaged during the attack, a shuttle ascends from the capital city, past the atmosphere and towards a vessel in its orbit. In that direction, a newly arrived dreadnought can be found, marked with the name ‘Vying Thunder’. 

Once they make it through protective force field and into the hangar bay, the pilot lands the shuttle. Out from its doors comes Valcera, who briefly gives the area a sweeping glance, seeing that there’s no organic personnel present, only droids. She also notes that they are not alone, as there is a familiar vessel standing several meters away, the X-70B Phantom-class prototype, ‘Rogue Warden’.

While she considers entering it, she is distracted by a set of blast doors opening in the hangar, and another much taller individual joining her. The red-skinned twi’lek approaching her offers a nod and a friendly smile.  
“There you are. Glad to see you’re still unharmed”, Zal’riva comments.

Val returns the gesture and folds her arms, waiting for the Emperor’s Wrath to reach her.  
“I can say the same about you. Actually, I might even add that I’m fairly impressed. I hadn’t expected to see you come back here with an entire dreadnought. It’s rare that I get such lavish gifts.”

Zal smirks and shakes her head.  
“Anything for my favorite Dark Councilor. And besides, we had to take something back, right?  
The mission wasn’t a complete success, but I wanted to attain some kind of trophy from the battle. The ship seemed suitable.”

Only Zal would be foolish and dangerous enough to not only attempt such a feat, but also succeed with it. Well, if Val had her crew and the situation was more desperate, maybe she would’ve contemplated the same. The twi’lek is likely the only person who would do it out of spite, though.  
“I can’t say I’m dissatisfied with the results”, she says briefly before her gaze grows more serious. “But I assume this means you did not manage to take Malgus down, after all.”

Now that they’re next to each other, Zal has slowed down and she emits a heavy sigh.  
“No, I’m sorry. I have to confess that I underestimated him. Perhaps that’s such an obviously foolish thing to do, but I simply expected my own strength would be enough to succeed. Won’t make that mistake again.”

Before Val has a chance to respond, they hear the noise of a hatch opening from the smaller ship, followed by a familiar voice.  
“She is being uncharacteristically modest, by the way. I saw much of the security footage and Lord Wrath’s attack was pretty impressive. She was virtually unstoppable.”

When the two women turn towards the ship, they see a third joining them. This one has well-tended fair skin, with an almost constant small frown on her brow, and her long black hair is as usually tied up in a high ponytail. Compared to the two Sith, she has eschewed most conventional protection and instead wears a simple dark red open jacket with a tall collar, grey shirt and tight black pants. If it wasn’t for the cybernetic patch over the left eye, she would appear like pretty much any other civilian human. 

Zal looks highly amused as she watches how Cierah approaches them.  
“You really had time to view that nonsense with all the chaos around us?”

“Of course, I did. I always make sure I have enough time to gain new information. This was a chance to study you in battle, observe your style and search for weaknesses.”

The last bit is said with an even tone, but Zal takes it as a joke. Well, at least she hopes it is. Who knows when it comes to former Intelligence agents?  
Val seems a little calmer, however.  
“I’m relieved to see that you are doing fine as well, Cierah. Were any of your crew members wounded during the strike or the time since your departure?”

The agent stops next to them, letting the three form a sort of triangle, before she places her hands behind her back.  
“Fortunately, no. They all survived unscathed.”

“As did mine, with one exception”, Zal admits. “Jaesa took a hit during our takeover of this ship, but kolto was distributed and she has endured the pain.  
For the most part, our attacks were simply too swift for us to sustain any major damage. I suppose my pride was the largest casualty.”

“So, nothing new, then”, Val states as she winks at the unamused twi’lek.  
“Perhaps you have some information for me, Cipher? We only recently repaired our communications network and it has been rather chaotic. I hoped you could get me up to speed with any other developments.”

Cierah inclines her head.  
“Of course, and I do indeed have news, but sadly, most of it is bad.”

She had hoped to hear a different set of words, but that was likely wishful thinking. Val sighs and shrugs.  
“I expected no different. Go on.”

“First of all, Zhorrid is not the only one who launched attacks, nor is she the only Sith of any power who chose to join Malgus. Darth Decimus has betrayed the Empire as well.”

Zal frowns, remembering the man she once met in the backstage of the battlefield. That seems like a lifetime ago now, and he even supported her claim of becoming the Wrath. How much times have changed.  
“Decimus? Did he give up on his campaign at Corellia, then?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He left the world behind, bombing and firing on it at an equal rate as what occurred here on the capital, before he departed with his forces, likely to meet up with Malgus.  
This is of course a terrible development, but thankfully, he did not target imperial forces directly, at least. It seems the Republic was actually hit somewhat harder.”

Val appears momentarily distant as she contemplates such actions. Was that simple luck or a sign that he still hates the Republic more than his old home? Hopefully, the latter stays true. She wants there to be a chance to make him surrender rather than let more war linger.  
“That is better than the alternative.”

“Indeed, but it also means that Corellia will likely be lost. Without Decimus’ forces, the rest will either have to surrender or flee, as to not buckle under the pressure. They will be surrounded by the Republic’s many fleets otherwise.  
The bombing attacks did not only harm Dromund Kaas either. A few other imperial planets and colonies were hit on multiple levels, which has caused more damage. Most of it was not quite as bad as on this planet, due to having smaller forces, but that doesn’t necessarily make it better. Losses are still losses.”

The other two sees how Val closes her eyes and raises a hand to rub her temples, hoping to calm herself down.  
“Major structural damage, casualties, substantial loss of forces to a new enemy, surrender on crucial battlefields…the list of horrid results from these events just keep piling up. I suppose we should be glad that we only lost three Dark Councilors, though.”

Cierah waits a second before she clears her throat.  
“Actually, that is not the case, my lord. There’s also a fourth, Darth Rictus.”

Val displays a sharp frown, but recognizes that it’s not actually the agent’s fault. She is only the messenger, after all.  
“Rictus? What in the Emperor’s-…why did _he_ leave us?”

It’s quite unusual to see it, but Cierah actually shrugs.  
“As of this moment, I do not know. I’m not sure why he left, nor where he went, but he did decide to depart. However, surprisingly, he did not cause any damage to any planet. I snapped up reports regarding the event, and he seems to merely have left a message that he was giving up on the Empire.  
I can’t say with absolute certainty that this means he has truly gone with Malgus or if he simply chose to abandon the Empire, but he is not with us regardless.”

This time, Val lowers her gaze to the floor. Rictus, not a man she ever spoke to very much. He has always been, similar to his Sphere, very mysterious. Quiet, distant, unpredictable and other things that make Val very uncomfortable. What was his purpose? What is his goal? Maybe she will never find out.  
“Well, at least we didn’t lose Marr or Vowrawn. Now that would’ve been catastrophic.”

“Quite. Sadly, there are more bad news.”

Val shakes her head, and Zal snorts, only slightly in amusement. The other part is probably out of resignation.  
“You are just a wave of absolute positivity today, huh?”, the twi’lek asks sarcastically.

Cierah glances at her with an unmoving expression.  
“I could have brought news from the sport events on Nar Shaddaa or the spring ceremony on the southern hemisphere of Alderaan, but you wanted word from the war, so that is what you will receive.  
At any rate, I decided to check some of the information Malgus divulged in his speech and it appears he was not lying. Several mandalorian clans are now on his side, ones that did not just suddenly join him, but that he has been gathering for months, maybe years. He has thought this through quite thoroughly beforehand. I don’t know how loyal they are, per se, but they are a substantial force nonetheless.”

“What about the hutts?”, asks Val. “Was that part true?”

“It was, unfortunately. Apparently, almost the entire Hutt Cartel is now on his side. They are being led by some ludicrous slug called ‘Toborro’, who admires Malgus’ vision. It means that most of the Cartel has cut ties with us, but not all. As one can always trust that some hutts prefer greed over loyalty, there are those who have remained with us. Or, rather, allowed business to continue flowing.  
If I were to guess, I’d say that these hutts likely hope to benefit in the case of Toborro’s failure. This means they still trade with the Republic and other factions, but I think it is an opportunity the Empire must seize upon.”

Val nods curtly.  
“I agree. I will speak with Vowrawn and make sure that he stays in contact with them. He might know already, but I want to be certain.”

“Very well. I also have one last piece of bad news.”

Zal looks sideways at Val.  
“Not ready to collapse yet, I hope?”

The mirialan takes a deep breath, attempting to prepare herself, and then lets her shoulders slump as she exhales.  
“Normally, I would simply endure all this no matter how bad, but these are exceptional circumstances. I am still a member of the Dark Council, though, and can’t simply give up. Lay it on me, Cipher.”

Cierah inclines her head, seemingly appreciating Val’s determination.  
“You remember the message I sent to you several weeks back about the disappearing stealth fleet? I now have confirmation that Malgus took it.”

Almost immediately, Val shuts her eyes, feeling how the previously small headache is growing much fiercer.  
“…fuck.”

“With all this information, there’s now no doubt that Malgus can break out on his own as a third major power, especially as the Empire and the Republic still seem unsure of how to react.  
I think the added difficulty is that none of us know what he wants in practice. In his speech, he spoke of conquest, but what does that really mean? Does he aim to fight us both at the same time, or prey at one who’s still trying to guard against their first enemy?”

Once Val’s eyes open again, she looks seriously troubled.  
“I can certainly understand that sentiment. I’m not really sure what to do either. I feel so…lost at this point. This wasn’t the kind of setback I had prepared for.”  
She chooses to glance between her two friends.  
“Do you have any advice or plans that you would prefer that the Empire follows?”

Her two companions seem somewhat more grounded for now, with Zal being first to raise her voice and possibly bring some determination into the discussion.  
“Sort of. My current goal at this time is to speak with Marr and the Ministry of War about our war efforts.  
I know that they may not enjoy it, but I aim to recommend that we pull back certain offensive forces, as it’s time that we focus on guarding our borders. We need to protect ourselves from attacks on more than one front now and we have to be smart about this. I do have a feeling that Marr will likely agree with me, since he has been the Empire’s defensive leader for decades. If he does, the rest will bow to his wisdom, I’m sure.”

Val also nods in agreement.  
“I am not involved much directly with the military, outside of my own Sphere’s forces and my discussions with Lana, but it does sound like a good idea. Technically, Marr is the only actual military leader left from the Dark Council now, so his word will be quite crucial.”

“Indeed, although I aim to be just as involved with it. I am not just the Emperor’s Wrath, but one of the Empire’s foremost frontline leaders. I am sure he and I can work together on this.”

Shortly after, Cierah offers her own thoughts.  
“As for me, I will continue to investigate and research more of the intel I have acquired, but I also intend to do something more practical. I will reach out directly to Mandalore.”

“You wish to speak with Mandalore?”, Val asks with a raised brow.

“Yes. From all I’ve heard so far, he has remained loyal to his and his people’s contract with our Empire, not Malgus. There are outliers, yes, but the majority of the mandalorians still follow their warlord.  
Currently, they fight for us, but I hope to convince him that it is preferable to go a step further and directly defend the Empire. It will be difficult, as they are born warriors, preferring hunts over defenses, but that is something which can change…I hope.”

While it’s certainly an intriguing notion, Val looks both surprised and skeptical.  
“But how will you reach out to the leader of the mandalorians? You are only an agent, a freelancer, even.”

“That is true, but surely you remember Jovana Vlasic? She knows Mandalore pretty well, as she is not only in the same clan as him, but he directly invited her. Or ‘adopted’, as she calls it.”

As Zal has met that woman as well, she smirks at Cierah.  
“Ooh, going to use your girlfriend to manipulate him into a meeting, are you?”

Cierah furrows her brow at Zal. Even if these two know of her relationship, she’s still not entirely comfortable speaking of it, especially not with Sith.  
“Yes, in fact, I am. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not at all, just thought I’d clarify the situation.”

“…bastard.”

Val smiles at her.  
“Well, if you do, then I hope you succeed. Getting the rest of the mandalorians to unite with us, even temporarily, would be quite a boon. Maybe if miss Vlasic actually agrees to the necessity of this cause, your meeting might go smoother.”

Cierah shrugs.  
“I’m not sure if she does yet, but once I’m done talking to her, she will.”  
She hesitates momentarily, eye drifting off.  
“Jovana and I…we are important to each other. If she knows how much it matters to me, she will want to protect the Empire.”

“If that’s the case, tell her and Mandalore that the Empire will do everything in its power to reward the mandalorians quite substantially if they commit.”

“Don’t worry, my lord, I already know what to say.”

Is that a comfort, or something Val should be cautious of? She hopes Cierah won’t make too many promises on the Empire’s behalf.  
“Well, at least you both have pretty solid plans, then. I still don’t quite know what to do, other than to continue working with my Sphere. It…feels like that isn’t enough at this time, though, and I’m getting quite overwhelmed by all the problems piling up.”

While she seems to linger in her doubt, Zal and Cierah briefly share a gaze.  
“Well, there are other matters which probably need your attention”, Zal remarks. 

“Indeed”, Cierah agrees. “I have studied the schedules and whereabouts of all the other Councilors at this time and everyone are currently quite separated.  
With Marr being the only military leader, except for our dear Wrath, he will likely be with the fleets. They will require his input almost constantly.  
Ravage shall most likely stay busy with reassessing contracts and diplomatic relationships to countless other factions. It will force him to travel across the Empire. The same goes for Mortis, who will have to reestablish law and order within regions that are currently struggling.  
Before I arrived in this system, I received information that Vowrawn has gone to Ziost where he can better deal with his Sphere’s many responsibilities without getting disturbed. Simultaneously, Arvade is trying to target the Sith Order, hoping to root out any further rogue elements in their ranks.  
As for Karrid and Acina, both of them are fairly new, and they have important technological and medical challenges to deal with. Their tasks will be almost entirely focused on repairing, rebuilding and repurposing various elements.”

Zal turns to the mirialan.  
“You understand what that means? You are the only one who will remain on Dromund Kaas, Val. The stability of its rule will depend on you.”

Cierah inclines her head once more.  
“It is our capital world and it must be seen as a beacon of hope and control. It has to remain intact and strong for the coming months, and you are the only Councilor currently stationed here.”

This was something she hadn’t thought about, even though she realizes the truth now. Her eyes move around searchingly before she sighs.  
“Dammit…you’re right. I don’t like the idea of this, as I prefer to focus on our tasks but…I suppose I have no choice now. I will have to speak with the various regional and local leaders across the different continents. That’s usually left to Ravage and Vowrawn but…I will see what I can do.”

Zal offers her a smile and puts a hand on her shoulder.  
“I know you can do it, my friend. I have faith in you.”

“As do I”, Cierah concurs.

Feeling a little bit strengthened by their words, Val returns the same expression, placing her own hand on Zal’s arm.  
“I am thankful for the support from both of you, but I hope you also realize that we will need your aid in the future. Do what you need to do, but try to call and keep me updated as often as you can. Return to me when necessary.”


	4. Uncrowned determination

Difficulties upon difficulties seem to pile up for the Empire, in the wake of the recent disaster created by Malgus. He is no longer known by any Darth title now, just the name. For some, it has quickly become a rule to never acknowledge him by the self-proclaimed Emperor rank. To do so would, in their minds, give him more credit than he deserves, and no one has any intention of accepting his movement as some kind of sovereign faction. For now, he is nothing more than a rebellious and destructive Sith. If that perception will change at any point, no one can say.

This is the mood Lana has been able to encounter during the past few days at least, when she has talked to various people, read reports, listened to the news broadcasts and more. She’s glad that there are those who stand ready to oppose him, to ignore his calls for victory, but also wonders how long that will last.  
Once she wanders into Valcera’s department and sees how crowded it is, she realizes that it’s pretty obvious how things have not yet returned to normal, which means Malgus may still have the upper hand against them in matters of morale. 

Not that she’s all too surprised by the numbers, though, especially not with recent developments. After all the things that has happened on this world in the past week or so, it seems like a lot of people have been grouping up around the mirialan. She’s becoming somewhat of a mark of stability, a leader to rally around, even if she has never claimed to be. Then again, she’s also the last Dark Councilor currently present on Dromund Kaas. Usually, there’s at least a few here, as a lot of the administration is located on this world, but many are now needed elsewhere. 

In the center of the internal chaos, she sees how Khem patrols the area, watching everyone with scrutinizing eyes. He actually manages to break up a few arguments, especially one that was getting close to a fight. Those involved are quite surprised by it, but they don’t oppose him. No one would actively want to fight with the virtually gigantic dashade, as many have become aware of his abilities. If Val has an incarnation of her wrath, it would definitely be Khem. 

When Lana eventually comes closer, she smiles at him.  
“I see you’re keeping the peace in these parts of the Citadel. I hope things aren’t too bad, though.”

Khem glances at her momentarily, before he snorts and redirects his eyes to the crowd. It seems he is wearing his translation device today, to let him be understood in more fluent Basic. Some people have implants for that, but because they can’t rely on this possibility, Khem utilizes an external device which can do it for him.  
“No matter what happens, I will take care of it. My master trusts me with security for her entire domain within the Citadel. I will not fail.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt you. You have always shown yourself to be capable in this regard. However, if you need any aid, you shouldn’t hesitate to contact me. I will be there to assist.”  
He merely scoffs at such an offer.  
“Anyhow, I was looking for Val. You mind if I go to her office?”

Khem gazes at her once more, still rather skeptical.  
“Master has said that you are always allowed, for some reason, so I cannot stop you.”

Lana looks quite amused by it, before she pats his arm and walks past him.  
“I know you trust me, Khem. Someday, you will admit it.”

He bares his fangs at her, but Lana is already approaching the door, forcing him to return to his duties.  
The first thing she notices on the outside is how the desk belonging to the assistant is currently empty, which is highly unusual. It’s not like it is occupied at all times, but it’s quite rare during hectic times for the chair to be vacant. When Lana glances around the area, she can see why.

Behind a wall to the left side, she spots two people standing close together, embracing one another. It’s seemingly two human women, both of them in different uniforms. The shorter one, with dark brown skin and bob cut black hair, wears an imperial attire, while the somewhat taller light brown-skinned woman with black hair in a ponytail, who also has a set of implants over both eyes, wears a corporation-based outfit.  
Lana immediately recognizes Francine and her girlfriend Simiris. For some reason, it seems like Fran is leaning against Sim in a manner that would make one assume she’s seeking comfort. Sim appears to be quite ready to offer it as well, as she holds one hand on Fran’s back, while the other strokes her hair. 

With a somewhat worried gaze, Lana carefully walks over to them.  
“Francine? Is everything alright?”

The assistant twitches in surprise and separates from her companion in a startling manner, not having been prepared for anyone to see them like this.  
“M-my lord!”, she exclaims, while correct her uniform. “I…I did not see you standing there. I apologize for showing such meek behavior in public.”

Lana offers her a small smile.  
“Hey, it’s alright. There’s no need for apologies. Times are quite difficult on Dromund Kaas right now and I don’t blame you for feeling overwhelmed. Val obviously depends on you a lot as well, so I do not fault you for seeking comfort elsewhere.”

Francine’s expression softens as she breathes out in relief, realizing that she’s talking to a friend. Lana has always been good to her, similar to Val’s behavior, even if they’re not as close as Fran is to Ashara.  
“Thank you for understanding, my lord. It’s not just my tasks, though.”  
She hesitates momentarily, biting her lower lip.  
“My…my parents live in Summarin, a city to the north. It was one of those that were under attack by Zhorrid’s forces.”

Lana widens her eyes.  
“Oh, Francine, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware. Are they alright?”

The Ensign takes a deep breath, but then slowly exhales as she nods.  
“They are, but a lot of areas were not as lucky. I…haven’t yet gotten over how close I was to losing them.”

“Of course, I understand. It can’t have been easy.”

While Francine nods to agree, she also smiles when she glances at her companion.  
“Luckily, I contacted Simiris and she immediately broke through the barricade of people outside the city to come find me. I didn’t think it would be possible, but she managed it.”

Sim offers her partner a faint smile.  
“I wanted you to feel safe, so it was worth it.”

Now that she knows who’s watching, and that it doesn’t matter, Francine closes the distance to her girlfriend, to hug her once more.  
Lana seems pleased as well.  
“Thank you for being there for her, Simiris. I know Val would say the same, as she wants people who she deems to be important to feel happy and secure.”

“No need. I’d do anything for her.”

Francine clears her throat.  
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m important to lord Imperius. I am merely-“

She’s interrupted by Lana before she can continue explaining.  
“Don’t say that, Francine. She sees you as a friend and an important companion. Don’t ever forget this.”

If Lana was trying to help ease the Ensign’s mind further, it seems she has succeeded, based on the smile.  
“Thank you, lor-…miss Beniko, for the information and for trusting me. You will be glad to know that Simiris is my source of stability during these days.”

“I certainly am. However, I should probably leave you alone. Val is in her office, I assume?”

“She is and if I were to predict something, I’d say she will be quite pleased to see you.”

Lana arches her brow, wondering what that might mean, but then she realizes the truth behind it, if she considers the current state of the department.  
She leaves the loving couple and instead enters the office, closing and locking the door behind her. Inside, she hears more loud voices, although not of the same amount as the crowds waiting on the outside.

As Lana remains by the door, she gets to witness how the mirialan is sitting on her sofa instead of behind her desk. On the table before her, Val has four holographic projectors, all showing holograms from different people. It’s three humans and one nautolan. During the course of this conversation, it seems Val has grown rather tired.  
“My lord”, one of the humans starts, “Terlo city is in dire need of resources, which we requested days ago, but they have not yet arrived.”

Val folds her arms and sighs.  
“Can’t Vowrawn get that done? I know he’s not here, but surely you can call him?”

“He’s extremely busy and has said that all of his work should be transferred onto the appropriate planetary stations. I have tried several people already, but you are the one with the highest amount of authority at this time. Please, my lord, we need someone to authorize the shipment, or the shuttles will never leave.”

She raises one of her hands and corrects her hair.  
“Fine, yes, I will see to it as soon as this conversation is finished. I promise.”

He bows his head.  
“Thank you. You are most gracious, Darth Imperius.”

Before he can fully finish his sentence, the female human on the hologram next to him has already begun speaking.  
“Lord Imperius, we realize how busy you must be at this time, but we need a Sith presence in Djis Khar to help calm our citizens. The mayor has done his best, but after all the destruction and chaos, we have very few security personnel left and the people are almost on the verge of rioting.  
I do not mean to impose, but most other major Sith are currently unattainable, and even then, the presence of a Dark Councilor would have the most profound reaction on the population. It would settle matters immediately, I know it.”

Val rolls her eyes.  
“Did you ask Vowrawn or Mortis to do the same thing in the past?”

“No, but…there has not been a disastrous event of such proportions in our city before! Please, my lord, I beg you. You are a Dark Councilor and your citizens need you.”

She knows how she already has about fifteen appointments today and perhaps even more tomorrow, but she will have to work it in somewhere. Val raises a hand to rub the bridge of her nose.  
“Alright, yes, I will make an appearance as soon as I can. I’m sure I can find a little bit of time in my schedule.”

“Thank you! We swear that this act will not be forgotten.”

As the rest have all said their piece, the nautolan decides to speak up. She’s not in a uniform, but an outfit which Lana would assume is that of a civilian.  
“My lord, may I speak?”

Val sighs, but tries to remain as attentive as she can.  
“Yes, of course, miss Zan Da. I am here for all of you. Go ahead.”

“After the attack on the planet, the Western Nautolan Fishing Corps have had difficulties in our parts of the Shikkaz ocean. Our harbor has suffered damage, and we lost some of our ships. We are in charge of important food supply lines to the rest of the planet, but the repair teams that we ask to aid us have instead turned their attention to the factories on the other side.”

This makes Val frown. Does it have something to do with anti-alien sentiments? She wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.  
“I see. Well, you are correct, this issue cannot be ignored. I will look into it and make sure you get people to repair your equipment right away, I swear.”

The woman puts her hands together and bows.  
“Thank you for listening, my lord.”

Once the conversations are finally over, and the projectors shut down, Val leans back in the sofa and groans, seeming somewhat overwhelmed. Lana smiles and takes a few steps inside, assuming that her girlfriend has already noticed her.  
“Busy day, I see. How is the Queen of Dromund Kaas doing?”

Val grimaces.  
“…please, don’t call me that.”

“Well, I don’t think Empress suits you quite yet.”

“I never suggested that it would be better!”

Lana chuckles as she slowly wanders up to Val’s side, standing by the table.  
“You must have a lot to do right now.”

“I would think that having four conversations at once should’ve been proof of it.”

“Fair enough. Can I perhaps assist you with some therapeutic discussions? If my voice is enough for this purpose, of course.”

Val opens one of her eyes to look at the advisor, seeing the mildly smug expression on Lana’s face. Instead of letting it be, Val swiftly grabs her wrist and then forcefully pulls the human down. Lana gasps as she ends up in Val’s lap. When she’s satisfied, the mirialan tilts her head and rests it on Lana’s chest.  
“I’m so exhausted. I can’t remember when I was last this tired. There are so many tasks that need to be completed, so many places to go, and yet there’s almost no assistance. Everyone else is busy.  
Resource distribution, local leaders that need to be appeased, riots and destruction, repairs, physical appearances, public debates…ugh.”

Lana smirks and tries to get into a more comfortable position, now that she realizes that she won’t be leaving this seat quite yet. She runs a hand over Val’s hair, hoping to comfort the Councilor.  
“Well, it’s quite advantageous from one perspective, isn’t it? With you being the only member of the Dark Council present, and with such power at your disposal, there’s a lot of chances to get some changes done.”

“Yes, that’s true and I’m glad for the opportunity, but…this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.  
I am used to an entirely different set of responsibilities. I handle artifacts, archiving, archaeological expeditions, discussions of historical and cultural value.  
And now, essentially, I have been moved from being in charge of history, to somehow aid a planet’s recovery.”

“I doubt you’re the only one.”

Val pushes her head further against Lana.  
“…yes, I know that, but Vowrawn is so much better at this than me.”

Lana shakes her head, feeling like there are probably other reasons hiding behind that convenient position.  
“Well, as you have already pointed out, Vowrawn is fairly busy at this time. Besides, you should give yourself a chance, Val. This will give you some experience.”

It takes several moments before she is shown any reaction. There’s no real wish or desire to do so, but Val manages to pull her head up, in order to face her girlfriend and glare at her.  
“…sometimes, I really hate it when you are correct.”

Lana meets this expression with another smug one, running a few fingers over Val’s various tattoos.  
“It’s a reality you will have to live with for now.”

Val sighs heavily.  
“I know, I know. I will acquiesce to everyone’s expectations of me, as frustrating and tiring as it is.”  
She starts to pout then, offering this display directly to Lana.  
“Distract me.”

The expression and somewhat pitiful request makes Lana chuckle and shake her head, before she caresses Val’s cheek.  
“You can be ridiculously adorable.”

“Precisely, which is why you should do as I say.”

“Very well, my Queen.”

Before Val manages to protest, Lana raises a hand, untangles the bun that Val’s hair is put into and then strokes her hand carefully and slowly through the strands, over and over. It turns out to be a very soothing and almost intoxicating experience. This isn’t the first time that Lana has done this for her.  
“Mm…this is amazing”, Val says through a whisper, with closed eyes.

“I know.”

“Can you stay like this all day?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

They stay silent for another minute or so, while Val relishes the sensation. It’s probably not only due to what is being done to her, but who is the one doing it for her.  
Before she manages to fall asleep, Val’s eyes flutter open once more. She places a hand behind Lana’s head and then pulls her down into a long and tender kiss. The Councilor would have assumed she’d eventually get tired of it, but except for Lana’s inherent skill, these intimate moments often have a healing effect on her. She pretty much needs to kiss Lana at least once per day, in order to get through it properly.

When their lips separate, Val leans in to rest her head under Lana’s neck, while the advisor places her chin on the Councilor’s hair, a hand still running through it.  
“I’m not sure what I can do to help you regarding more enjoyable subjects. I have been just as busy as you have.  
However, we can discuss something which relates to a personal detail for us, as it involves us both.”

“Oh? Something recent?”

“Yes. I was going to wait to discuss it until later, when you were less busy, but I suppose we can do it now. If you have time, that is.”

Val tilts her head to nuzzle into Lana’s neck.  
“I didn’t pull you into my lap if I didn’t want to. Go on.”

Lana smiles, realizing that Val is probably wasting time when she should be doing something else, but perhaps she can be lenient for now.  
“I flew an air speeder at the outskirts earlier and saw how many refugees had arrived, after all the destruction in other places. It seems many assumed that Kaas City would be safe, and therefore preferred to stay here.  
I can’t do much, but I figured it might be worth it to at least offer what I have. To that end, I have decided that I will clear out my apartment and hand it over to one of those families.”

She had expected surprise at this revelation and it’s what she receives as well. Val tilts her head backwards, searching Lana’s eyes with interest.  
“Really? You want to do that?”

“Well, yes, I feel like it would be the right thing for me to do when there are other spaces available for me to stay. A few others from different departments are doing the same, or renting out a few rooms if they have larger living quarters.”  
She considers her own logic and then shrugs.  
“It just doesn’t feel right to have such big place for myself, when there are other imperials who suffer at this time.”

Val nods slowly. She is definitely glad that Lana is willing to show some compassion, but questions remain.  
“I can certainly see why, but where will you go in the meantime? You can’t exactly sleep inside your office. Well, I suppose it’s physically possible, but I wouldn’t want you to endure that kind of thing. It’s not pleasant, trust me.”

Lana smiles, wondering what kind of experiences Val has had, but ignores it for now.  
“Well, I didn’t intend to. You see, I do have a girlfriend with a rather sizeable apartment in one of the other districts of the city. My plan was to speak with her about making arrangements.”

It takes a few moments for Val to fully consider this concept, before she blinks in surprise.  
“…oh. Wait, you’re saying that you…wish to move in with me?”

“You don’t like the idea?”

There’s not much hesitation when Val decides to smile at her instead.  
“What? Of course I do! I just hadn’t expected for you to make a request out of nowhere.”

There’s a sense of relief within Lana at the acceptance. She hadn’t exactly doubted the possibility, only that Val might’ve been reluctant. They have been together for at least a year, but such a discussion hasn’t always been on the table.  
“I admit that the timing isn’t perfect, and this wasn’t how I had planned to ask you, but it would become an issue eventually. At least now we have a reason not to ignore it.”

This week has been very difficult for both, especially after an unruly section of their relationship ended not too long ago. And yet, to have the next step in their relationship tied with such a problematic event is both fortunate and strange.  
Shortly after, Val smirks at her.  
“Well, I definitely have space, but are you sure that you’re prepared for this? Can you really handle all the stuff I might do on a daily basis? What if I have crazy parties, stay up really late every night or do a lot of loud activities?”

She’s not trying to scare Lana away. This is just the routine teasing from Val, which makes Lana mirror her girlfriend’s expression.  
“Don’t give me any of that nonsense. I know how unsociable you are by now.”

“…unso-…how dare you?! I am a Dark Councilor, one of the most important people in this Empire!”

“And also, one who would rather sit at home and read a novel than go out. Sorry, dear, you can’t fool me. I know your mannerisms and preferences by now.”

That makes Val laugh, shortly before she pulls Lana into another kiss, this one more eager than the last, as she runs her hand through that lovely blonde hair. She could’ve just said that she accepts the request, but this is much more enjoyable and says more than any words could.  
“I will make sure to send some people over to help you transfer all your possessions to my apartment”, she says when they get a small break. “Or our apartment, I suppose.”

“I do like the sound of that.”

“And I suppose I shall have to ask someone to add ‘Beniko’ to the door as well.”

“And onto all your other possessions?”

Val meets the amused smile on Lana with one of her own, as she grabs the human’s chin.  
“Tsk, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? You can’t have all of my things yet.”

“But eventually?”

Instead of responding immediately, Val shifts her hands to Lana’s waist and pushes her down onto the sofa. It’s a pretty large piece of furniture, so there’s not much issue for the advisor to lie fully sprawled out. However, shortly after, Val changes her own position, placing herself on top of Lana, while pinning her arms down.  
“Maybe.”

This motion is followed by their lips locking for the third time, the intensity of this collision being even fiercer. If Val was tired before, Lana has certainly awakened some kind of flame by her mere presence. Not that she minds, for it is rather relaxing to have the chance after so much stress as of late.  
When Val’s lips end up at Lana’s neck, both kissing and delightfully nibbling at it, Lana shuts her eyes and gasps.  
“Mm…I thought you were busy?”

“I am, but unless you want the temporary Queen to overload, she needs her lovely advisor.” 

Lana chuckles.  
“I’m at your command.”


	5. United horizons

The long and rather empty halls of a confiscated dreadnought wasn’t quite what Zal’riva had expected would keep her occupied during the past week or so, after chasing its owner off, but she hasn’t had much opportunity for other activities. Well, she could’ve potentially taken a shuttle down to the surface of Dromund Kaas, but she was still needed here. She had to help coordinate interrogation efforts of surviving crew members, and have Quinn deliver reports of his findings in its vast database. The Major had insisted that this search had to be thorough and therefore led it himself, assisted by a few imperial slicer experts.

At this time, however, she’s standing in one of the ship’s hangars, awaiting the sight of another vessel, which will be her future ticket out of here. Eventually, it arrives and moves through the outer force field. Zal can’t help but smile as the Tempest, her beautiful Fury-class interceptor, shimmers before her and goes in for a smooth landing.  
After walking around its length, making sure to watch for any signs of damage, she arrives at the opening hatch and smirks when she sees who’s standing there.

Already waiting at the entrance is another woman, dressed in more tightly fitting clothes, with a short brown hooded top, white gloves, a sturdy belt and brown pants. Her skin is dark blue, with her hair having a dark blue-black combination, set into a rather neat high ponytail. The most notable element is her red and slightly glowing eyes, having no discernible irises. To Zal, it would not be a lie to state that she is one of the most beautiful sights in this galaxy, even if it’s somewhat strange to consider her return to the orbit around Dromund Kaas. Last time the chiss went here, it was to attack the Emperor.

“Did you want this vessel back?”, Ktila asks with a mildly humorous tone. “Took you some time to contact us. Wondered if you might’ve chosen to leave it behind.”

Zal snorts and shakes her head.  
“Well, I was afraid you might refuse my request, as you seem to have grown very comfortable."

“Don’t be ridiculous, I would never do that.” She stops to raise a hand and scratches her chin in thought. “Although, I say that, but I did consider taking your carpet. Realized shortly after that it would be stupid, since I want it to be here for when I get back.”

The Sith slowly ascends the hatch while Ktila talks and doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of the Jedi, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist.  
“If you try to make my carpet yours, dear, then I will make you mine.”

Ktila tilts her head somewhat amusedly.  
“Wasn’t that already the case?”

“I meant in every sense of the word.”

“Hah. Sorry, not for sale.”

When Zal leans down to lock their lips together, she senses how the chiss is already pushing against her; it seems she may have been longing for Zal’s company. At the same time, Ktila feels how a certain taste runs through their kiss, making her assume that the twi’lek likely had something spicy to eat not too long ago. They don’t really enjoy the same type of food, but Ktila will not pretend that she dislikes the flavor.

They give each other a few moments after their lips separate, leaving their foreheads connected, and Ktila feels how one of Zal’s lekkus caresses her shoulder.  
“I realize you may have to go soon”, Zal says quietly, “but can I convince you to stay a little longer? I could certainly use the company.”

It makes Ktila smile to hear the request, to know that she’s needed.  
“Of course you can. It’s not like I’m on a tight schedule anymore.”

“No, but I might be, and I want to spend what spare time I have with you.”

Ktila nudges their noses together, caressing one of Zal’s cheeks, as she senses how the twi’leks fingers slowly strokes over her lower back.  
“I’m not going to disagree. Your cabin?”

“Mm, let’s go.”

It doesn’t even take a minute before the two of them are in Zal’s room and almost immediately, they remove their boots and socks in order to feel the soft carpet beneath their feet. Zal hasn’t felt it in days and senses how her body's stress decreases very quickly.  
Ktila turns her eyes towards her girlfriend and briefly surveys her.  
“Take off your coat and shirt, and I’ll help you relax.”

Zal blinks in surprise at first, before she arches her eyebrow both in interest and confusion.  
“Already?”

Ktila chuckles and shakes her head.  
“Not like that, you fool. I’m going to treat you to something else.”

She obviously wouldn’t mind if Ktila wants to get intimate immediately, even if she prefers something gentler at first. As her assumption was mistaken, she follows the instructions she is given, even removing her headband. It leaves her upper body quite bare, exposing not just the extended patterns of her black tattoos, but her fairly muscular body as well, along with the occasional scar. She wears nothing more than a flexible bra underneath, one that some might call a sports bra in other situations.  
She approaches the sofa that Ktila is standing next to and when she sits down, Ktila grabs a small chair to place behind the larger furniture for her own use, puts her hands on Zal’s shoulders and starts to massage the twi’lek.

She may be somewhat tense at first, but the relaxing tone that Zal’s body was already slipping into increases even further when Ktila initiates her ministrations. The Sith closes her eyes and emits a sound of relief, something between a groan and a moan.  
“By the Emperor…didn’t know I needed this until just now.”

Ktila smiles, even chuckles a bit as the lekkus seem to occasionally float around in a fairly relaxed state.  
“Don’t have anyone that does this for you?”

“Mm, only Vette occasionally, but she’s usually with Jaesa nowadays. I have to coax her with presents if I want to win her over.”

“Does that mean I’ll get one as well?”

Zal opens one of her eyes and glances over her shoulder.  
“Isn’t my company a gift in and of itself?”

Ktila snorts and leans forward to briefly kiss her cheek.  
“Don’t think everyone would agree, but I suppose you’re right.”  
She allows Zal to resume relaxing, as Ktila wants her to enjoy it, continuing the same process for as long as she can hold it. Eventually, she feels that Zal has reached a reasonable state to take it to the next stage.  
“Is it okay if I move towards your lekkus?”

Zal’s eyes are closed as she smirks, presenting the appendages for the other side of the sofa.  
“Why would you even have to ask? You are always allowed, darling, as long as you’re careful.”

It doesn’t take long for Ktila’s hands to start caressing both of them, being gentle at first.  
“Yeah, I know they’re sensitive, which is why I wanted to make sure.”

This isn’t the first time she touches the lekkus, of course, as they are often involved in most intimacy that the two of them enjoy together. They’re not ridiculously weak, but one has to move with care and skill in order to make Zal feel good, something Ktila has become quite adept at, actually.  
Zal doesn’t say it outright, but with the correct application of pressure, which Ktila almost uses, the touch is enough to virtually drive her into bliss. There are few she has enjoyed that exact sensation with, due to having lacked twi’lek partners.

A few minutes later, things have calmed down even further, and it has been very silent between the two, mostly to revel in the peaceful atmosphere. Eventually, they have to return to activity, especially because Ktila doesn’t really want Zal to fall asleep.  
“I was sorry to hear that you couldn’t trap Malgus. His escape was unfortunate.”

There’s a brief sigh through Zal’s nostrils, but she doesn’t sound angry or anything.  
“Agreed. The whole scenario is still fresh in my mind. I keep running ideas through it, for what I could’ve done differently or how I should’ve acted smarter, but I realize there will be other opportunities in the future. Or at least there better be. I will not allow that treacherous bastard to escape us forever.”

Once she stops with the treatment, Ktila chooses to wrap her arms around Zal’s shoulders instead, leaning her body forward to place their cheeks side by side.  
“I suppose you’ll continue elsewhere after this?”

“Yes, I’m needed among the fleets. I intend to meet up with some of the other military leaders in the Empire. You know, the ones who have stayed loyal.”

“And what will you be discussing?”

Military matters is not a strange topic for these two, especially since they’ve been sharing information for a couple of years, but Zal also hasn’t been in this type of position for their entire relationship.  
She smirks and raises one of her hands to run a few fingers over Ktila’s other cheek.  
“Trying to find out more of our military secrets, are you? Sneaky Jedi.”

She does at least get a short gentle laughter from Ktila.  
“Hey, I’m not with the Republic anymore, so I don’t actually need the secrets. I’m just curious.”

“Alright, fine. My intention is to suggest a retreat for much of our forces, at least those on the furthermost fronts, in order to defend our borders. I don’t want us to be exposed in case Malgus decides to strike at any of our open areas, and right now, we are rather vulnerable.”

Ktila listens, although not all too cautiously, only with mild interest. At the same time, one of her hands strokes its fingers over the tattoos on Zal’s left arm.  
“You think they’ll agree?”

“I don’t know, but they will certainly be forced to hear my voice. As the Emperor’s Wrath, I cannot command them without good reason, especially not with Marr present, but they will have to respect my opinion. It may go a long way towards convincing them, unless they have already realized the truth.”

“Makes sense”, Ktila says, before she drifts off into her thoughts. It is reasonable in their current situation, but if she thinks back, all of this is a little bit overwhelming.  
“Heh, in a way, it’s interesting to consider how different everything has become. I still remember the day we first met. To think that the Sith apprentice I encountered on Nar Shaddaa would eventually grow into such a powerful warrior, is quite astounding. Now you’re one of those who lead the Empire instead, only a few years after you were Baras’ apprentice.”  
The amusement lingers for no more than a few seconds, until she sighs and her shoulders slumps.  
“And I haven’t gotten anywhere at all in comparison.”

Zal arches her brow skeptical, tilts her head away and instead chooses to lay her eyes upon the chiss.  
“What? That’s nonsense, dear. Unless I’m mistaken, I remember a rather spirited, cautious, and open-minded Jedi Knight, who grew into a hero of the Republic. Sure, you don’t have a position among them now, but you are literally trying to stop the most dangerous man in the galaxy, and you might be the only one who can. Anyone who scoffs at your accomplishments is a fool.”

Ktila continues to watch her girlfriend in silence for a few moments, before she smiles and leans forward, placing a kiss on Zal’s cheek.  
“Thank you. Your support…means a lot to me.”

As Ktila is still sitting behind the sofa, her body somewhat bent over it, Zal turns around to fully face her, raising her hands to caress the Jedi’s cheeks and once more put their foreheads together.  
“I will always be there for you, Ktila, no matter what. If you have to face the Emperor again, I will be at your side, and if you need somewhere to hide, I will acquire a place for you.”

If the words and the touch are not enough, then the warmth flowing through the bond they share in the Force is certainly undeniable.  
“I know you will. You’re the best.”  
She gets tired of sitting so separated and instead pushes herself up to slide down along the back of the sofa, and slips right into Zal’s lap. The Sith wraps arms around her, holding her close as they embrace each other tightly.  
“You know, some days, I still feel it’s…peculiar that we ended up together. I sometimes wonder what my parents would’ve said, if they were alive and they found out that we were dating.”

Speaking of the past, or the distant past rather, is something they rarely do. To hear them mention their families, despite being in private, is even more of a seldom occurrence, as both know so little of them. Perhaps that is why it’s easier than with anyone else.  
“Hmm”, Zal emits, her curiosity rising. “Why would it be an issue? Am I so different from your previous partners?”

“Well, yeah. You’re a Sith, Zal.”

Zal arches her brow amusedly, tilting her head so that she can see Ktila’s face better, and the chiss seems to notice it, meeting Zal’s gaze soon after.  
“And that’s the only difference, is it?”

“Well…no, I guess not, but…”  
She raises a hand and corrects her hair a bit, a somewhat anxious motion.  
“Look, do you really want to hear about my exes?”

Zal shrugs.  
“Why not?”

“I can think of several reasons why not.”

“What, you think I will be jealous?”

Ktila gazes into her partner’s eyes skeptically, purple meeting red.  
“Well…you are the Wrath.”

“Tsk, don’t be silly. I have you now, why would I be angry that you have been with others in the past? It’s not like you’re my first either.”

Ktila opens her mouth, still seeming slightly uncomfortable, but then she sighs, realizing how foolish she’s being.  
“Okay, guess you have a point.  
During my lifetime, I’ve had four partners before I met you.”

“Four?”, Zal asks, but she sounds more intrigued than surprised. “Oh, naughty Jedi.”

Ktila giggles.  
“…shut up, you! The situation on Corellia is different. They’re more lenient there, but I’ve told you this already.”

“You have, indeed. So, want to tell me a little about them? I’m curious now.”

“I suppose I can.”  
She looks down as she lifts her hands, starting to count them off her fingers.  
“The first one was Morthan, a cathar guy, then there was a human lady called Jayde, a twi’lek named Dirroz and Layton, another local human.”

Zal snorts, but still mostly being amused.  
“I’m not even your first twi’lek, huh?”

“Heh, no, not really. He was very different from you, though. In fact, they all were. Everyone except Dirroz was older than me too.  
Morthan was this security guard who worked at a factory near our enclave. Pretty strong guy, quite passionate too. Jayde was one of my fellow Jedi, and we chose to spend time together in order to explore both ourselves and the Force.  
Dirroz was a corporate pilot, flew transports with supplies and items all across the planet. We met when he mistakenly took a piece of cargo into the enclave one day. And then there’s Layton, he was a musician, played mostly solo shows. I saw one of his gigs once and fell for the kind of emotional tunes he could produce.”

While she explains, Zal sits and watches her curiously, with a smile on her lips.  
“Sounds like they all had their charms.”

“In one way or another, yeah. But, our relationships all ended eventually, often due to my use of the Force. For Layton and Morthan, it was too much, while Dirroz simply didn’t have enough time for us. As for Jayde, she felt that our relationship was getting too important for her, and she could not keep up with the Jedi Code.”

Zal arches her brow in surprise.  
“She was falling too hard for you?”

“Yeah, essentially. She didn’t want it to consume her, which is what was happening, and she felt ending it was the right thing to do. She also chose to transfer elsewhere.”  
Ktila meets her girlfriend’s eyes.  
“No Jedi jokes, please.”

There’s a curl of Zal’s lips, but she manages to hold it in.  
“Alright, dear, I will do my best to prevent any mockery. Besides, I understand the reason. Your old Order thrives on peace and serenity, something you can’t have if all your thoughts are swallowed by love. I would say it’s foolish to ignore those sensations, but I realize not everyone can handle them.”

“Yeah, pretty much.  
Although, I should also mention that, at this point, you are the one I’ve been with the longest. Not had anyone last this long before.”

“Of course you haven’t – I’m the best, remember?”

Ktila may roll her eyes and laugh it off, but she also doesn’t deny what’s being said. Shortly after, she raises a hand to poke Zal’s nose playfully.  
“Alright, miss overconfidence, what about you? Had any interesting relationships in the past?”

Zal gaze swiftly changes from the humorous tone, to something more solemn. She doesn’t necessarily look annoyed, just contemplative.  
“I haven’t had any serious ones for quite a few years before you. During my time in the Sith Academy, I never trusted anyone enough to share more than my bed for a night or two.”  
She runs a hand up to her cheek to scratch it.  
“I’m not sure if I would call them my…romantic partners or anything, but I was involved with a few people in my time in the military, during my mid-to-late teenage years. They were very short affairs, though.”

“Would you like to talk about them?”

Zal considers the notion at first, if it’s unwise to do so, before she shrugs.  
“Sure, I suppose I can.  
The first one was Daena, a human. She was the first person I ever slept with and, interestingly enough, she wasn’t a slave like me. She was a conscripted criminal, hoping to get out of a prison sentence by serving the military for a few years. She was almost twice my age, I believe, although obviously much smaller. I’ve always been pretty tall, as you might imagine. Most of our connection was very…physical, though.”

Ktila nods curtly, studying Zal’s expression with interest. For now, the twi’lek’s gaze is turned elsewhere.  
“If she was that much older than you, did it ever feel…weird?”

“Well, she was pretty careful, despite her background. She obviously had more experience than me, so I let her lead most of the time. We didn’t last long, though.  
The second person was Forihe, the first man I ever spent such time with. He was only a few years older than me and also somewhat more understanding. Part of that was probably because he was a nautolan and from a family of slaves, just like me. It often turned more emotional between us and it was very pleasant, for a time.”

“Was he nice to you?”

“Oh, yes, of course, but we eventually drifted apart because he didn’t quite have what I was looking for.  
The third and last was Tirqua, a zabrak girl in about my age. She was what I might call my first actual girlfriend. Our relationship was more than just sex and even further emotional. We often spent time together, especially when we had a few hours between missions.”

The first question that comes to Ktila’s mind is something that she doesn’t actually want to ask, but it sort of slips out of her anyway.  
“Was she…?”

“A slave? Yes, although she had been enslaved early on, as a child from a conquered planet during the Great Galactic War.”  
Zal’s gaze turns quite distant, seeing images of that young woman in her mind, being locked deep inside. It makes her snort.  
“She was quite a bit smaller than me, faster and more agile too. The biggest difference between us was our personalities. Tirqua was very…bitter, I suppose, and argumentative. She was often punished for disobedience. I guess it was the inner flare that attracted me, despite our occasional disagreements.”

While they have never spoken about this particular subject, Ktila does remember Zal mentioning her time in the military before, and how it led her into the Sith. It was quite an unfortunate end.  
“She sounds pretty interesting. I guess that she, erm…”

Zal briefly glances at Ktila, before she sighs.  
“Yeah, she and the others all died when my squad was wiped out. We weren’t together at the time, but…”

Sorrow flows through Ktila’s eyes as she nods and leans against her girlfriend, tilting her head towards Zal’s shoulder.  
“But it still hurts. I’m sorry, Zal.”

“It’s alright. It’s been quite a few years now and I have had time to move on. I have a new family, with new people I care for and I will not let the same thing happen again.”

Ktila doesn’t say it, but she knows that she is likely part of that equation. In fact, Kira may also be, for her connection to Jaesa.  
“I’m glad you found them. You deserve that kind of happiness.”

“And hopefully, if I manage to help the Empire change, no one else will have to live through that kind of scenario.  
As for my parents' reaction, I also have no idea. I mean, I don’t know who they were. In fact, I’m not even sure I had any parents.”

The way she says it isn’t quite as humorous as she may have tried for it to be, because Ktila feels it sounds more dismissive.  
“What are you talking about? Of course you did.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not impossible that there might have been none.”  
Her gaze drifts down, as other more unpleasant memories resurface.  
“When I was younger, working in the fields of the compound, some of the human guards used to tease me. They joked that I was grown in some kind of lab, as I was so freakishly huge for a twi’lek and a woman.”

Ktila furrows her brow, feeling how anger rises her in chest.  
“…what? Ugh.” She shakes her head. “I can’t tolerate assholes like that. It’s this attitude that makes me despise certain parts of the Empire, even if you’re there.”

“Maybe, but sometimes I wonder if those people had a point.”

Ktila’s ire increases even further and she suddenly raises her hand to Zal’s chin, making the twi’lek look at her.  
“Zal, listen to me – you are _not_ a ‘freak’, okay? You are beautiful, strong, compassionate, intelligent and amazing. If they’re too stupid to realize this, then that’s their loss.”

Even if it was Zal who endured those words in the past and she should be the one enraged at the memories, she merely smiles at Ktila.  
“It’s alright, dear, I have disregarded such insults long ago. No one dares to hurl them at me nowadays anyhow. But…I am glad to know that you care.”

Ktila exhales, placing a tender and enduring kiss on Zal’s cheek, while she caresses the other.  
“No matter what happens, Zal, you will always have me. The rest of the galaxy can burn if it ever hurts you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I don't...think these two have ever discussed their past relationships? I may be wrong. I just thought of this when I checked some of the stuff I wrote about Zal on a blog of mine months ago, and decided that it was time to mention it in an actual fic._


	6. Coordination

The Vying Thunder has lingered in orbit above Dromund Kaas long enough, and after Lord Wrath’s lengthy efforts of trying to interrogate the personnel, and clearing out its databanks of information, it seems that it may finally be time to utilize the vessel for its previous intention, and get a new crew on board. However, before that can be done, the ship has also been found useful for another purpose.

After most of the crew has either been imprisoned or distributed into other posts, most of the droids have been moved back to the surface, and the security cameras have been disabled, a general signal is sent out that no vessels are allowed to enter its hangar bays. Well, none other than the four currently approaching it from the surface, that is.  
All four are rather minor vehicles, shuttles without hyperspace capabilities. They are also unmarked on the outside, without any digital signatures that would display any origin or what the people inside belong to. For most, this would not really be an issue, as lots of shuttles travel everywhere everyday on the capital and many other world, but these ones are rather special.

When the first one lands, the only person on the passenger seats in the back stands up, lowers the datapad that she was reading from, and moves towards the front, where the pilot is sitting. The man in that area is, of course, Andronikos Revel. He has been in Valcera’s employ for a few years now, and he is pretty much the pilot she trusts the most, certainly when it comes to a secret meeting like this. He’s not just an employee, nor an imperial, but a friend.

When he has shut most of the engine off, made sure that everything checks out and inspected his weapons, he turns around to look at the mirialan. She’s standing there in her red, black, and white robes, with the metal piece surrounding her neck and shoulders. It has practically become her signature outfit now, the one she is always seen in during official gatherings. Few are aware that she also keeps a set of protective material underneath it, in case she gets into combat.

“Be careful in there, alright?”, he tells her.

Val looks mildly amused while she leans against the doorframe and arches her brow.  
“You know I’m quite familiar with these people by now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but you can never be too sure, right? That’s what I always said about my old crew, and look how that turned out.”

“…Andronikos, they were pirates. These people are Sith.”

He rolls his eyes.  
“Not sure why you think that’s any less worrying. Honestly, I would probably trust Sith less than pirates. Well, other than you and Ash.”

Val merely chuckles and shakes her head.  
“You concern is adorable, but I will be fine.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn ya. You don’t have the big guy with you right now, so you shouldn’t forget that you can still be vulnerable.  
I’ll come gunnin’ if I hear any crap, though.”

It’s not like his worries are completely unwarranted. During the last year or so, she has suffered a burglary into her deepest chamber, an assassination in her own personal quarters, multiple attacks on her companions and resources, plus generally run into dangerous situations. It does get tiring to reassure him, Lana, Ashara, Zal’riva, Talos and many more people that she will be fine, though, even if she has to remind herself to be thankful that she has so many friends who care for her well-being.

Once she leaves the shuttle alone, she sees that the three other vessels have already opened as well, all of them holding a Sith. It is Darth Vowrawn, Darth Acina, and Darth Marr, each of them having one single person with them, who acted as a pilot. The four Councilors all look at each other, nod, and then leave the hangar bay together.  
They move in silence through this large section, into a set of corridors and then finally enter a separate room. Inside, there’s a big metal table, four chairs, some glasses, a container with water, and some other refreshments. Except for the water, nothing else is really touched.

All four moves to sit down on their seats, each getting a side by the square surface. Acina is leaning against the back of her chair, Val has her legs crossed with one elbow on the table, Marr is sitting with his arms folded and Vowrawn leaves both arms on the table, his hands intertwined. After a few tense seconds, it is the tallest of them who breaks the silence.  
“I am glad that this meeting could finally be arranged”, Marr says. “I don’t have all the time in the galaxy, as you might imagine.”

“Oh, I see”, Vowrawn responds with an undertone of mockery. “The busy leader of the military, thinking his time is more valuable. And you believe the rest of us have much more spare time, do you? The Sphere of Production and Logistics could not _possibly_ have anything of importance to do in our current situation, hmm?”

Marr releases a heavy sigh, not even looking at the pureblood.  
“I do not recall speaking any such words, nor was I trying to imply that you are being lazy. However, I must mention that, unlike _some_ , I try to at least always be punctual and remember what arrangements I have made.”

It is pretty sharp criticism, of course, but Vowrawn takes that as a challenge, looking quite amused.  
“Oh, so you doubt my belief in the importance of efficiency, do you? If so, you have sorely misunderstood what it is I do, dear.”

While neither of the women say anything, they do look at each other. Val rolls her eyes, while Acina smiles, almost on the verge of laughing. They sort of anticipated this confrontation, as it tends to happen when these two get to have an audience they trust at least somewhat.  
“If that were the case”, Marr says, “perhaps you would do well to miss fewer appointments, when their time has been so accurately determined.”

“Miss?”, Vowrawn asks with laughter in his tone. “My dear, I never _miss_ an appointment. I may reject them, I may ignore them, I may even arrive purposefully late to some, but I never miss anything. My presence is exactly what I intend it to be.”

“Is that so? I am not sure that the people at Lectoz III would agree with you.”

Vowrawn seems to contemplate it for a moment and then nods his head knowingly.  
“Ah, you mean the little show that one of your apprentices prepared, to make an impression? Yes, I heard of it.”

“But you were not there.”

The pureblood snorts.  
“Of course not. Such cheap measures to gain my favor is too blatant. Besides, he bores me. Now, if it had been Nidesa, I might have considered it.”

Marr sighs and slowly shakes his head.  
“Your favoritism is ridiculous. Now who’s being blatant?”

It is at this time that Val finally decides to step in and clears her throat.  
“As much as I enjoy witnessing your marriage disputes live, I believe it may be beneficial if we focus on the matter at hand.”

Vowrawn smirks at her.  
“Uncomfortable, Imperius?”

“Not for myself, no, but I feel sorry for Marr. A set of words that I rarely get to use.”

That makes the pureblood chuckle, something she is quite adept at making him do. Marr merely shakes his head.  
“Alright, I suppose you have a point. I shall postpone our bickering for a later date. I am ready to begin this appointment in earnest.”

“As am I”, Marr agrees. “And I’m sure that everyone already knows why we’re here. Between the four of us, we hold the most loyalty to the Empire out of any members of the Dark Council. It cannot be disputed that we have done and sacrificed much in order to improve and preserve it, nor how ready each of us would be to protect it.  
Since all of us have a stake in the game of how to best defend this faltering nation, it would be wise to create some kind of unified plan.”

Val doesn’t say it out loud, but they all know that she is technically the foremost voice when it comes to change in the Empire, even if most of the three here are all on the same page and want the same. They want the Empire as a territory to stay intact, but the rules, principles, ideals and more, need to be altered, to evolve. Val may be in charge of Ancient Knowledge, of the history of the Sith, but she has always believed in the notion of learning from it, not endorse everything it has done.

Acina nods quite eagerly after Marr is done speaking.  
“I certainly agree. I may be new to the Dark Council, but I have figured out how the basic politics of it work at this point. Of course, that whole concept has been twisted now that a third of our organization has left, but I still believe this is the way forward. It is why I accepted your invitation.  
However, there is also an issue; as eight Councilors remain, would it not have been beneficial to at least have invited another person, so that we could have a majority? Feels somewhat problematic otherwise.”

“True enough,” Vowrawn concedes, “but I’m already quite confident that we can convince Arvade to agree with us. She also cares about protecting the Empire.”

Val arches one of her eyebrows skeptically.  
“If that’s the case, then why isn’t she here?”

“Arvade agrees with our methods, but she is uninterested in secret meetings. Her excuse tends to be that she is ‘getting too old for schemes’. I suppose I can’t blame her.”

“How…old is she?”

Vowrawn’s lips curl once more.  
“You don’t believe I would reveal such personal information about our esteemed Lord of Sith Philosophy, do you? No, you would have to ask her that yourself.”

Val sighs and shakes her head. She doubts that Arvade would reveal it either. More than being the oldest, she would probably never provide details.  
“Never mind. We shall simply have to hope that she lives up to expectations, I suppose. For now, we should probably discuss the future.  
It’s pretty clear that the Dark Council will need some kind of stability, after our losses. Personally, I believe we should already start trying to search for replacements.”

The other three nods, especially Acina.  
“That would be wise”, she says. “It’s always best to form a plan at an early stage.”

“But this time, there must be a thorough vetting process”, Marr adds. “Not only did Malgus gain his position too easily, but Decimus was supposed to be Vowrawn’s pawn. And how did that turn out?”

The pureblood rolls his eyes.  
“Come now, you cannot give me the blame for this. The time when Decimus was unambitious has long since passed. We have conversed from time to time during the years, but it would be impossible to claim that he had any interest in listening to my so-called ‘orders’ in the last several years.”

“And perhaps that is the problem itself? We need to find people who are loyal to the Empire, not themselves. A modicum of ambition is healthy, but not on the expense of the Empire’s safety.”

Val nods, not being able to argue against those words.  
“What about Rictus? What happened to him?”

Vowrawn shrugs.  
“Sadly, neither of us can claim that we ever had any control over him. I did not even know him very well, to be honest. He is from an era long before either me or Marr had any influence.”

Acina tilts her head curiously.  
“But you have influence with Arvade. Why would it not be the same with Rictus?”

“Because Arvade and I know each other through our families and pureblooded politics. Rictus was unknown to me other than belonging to the Dark Council, before I joined, and he has never seemed interested in interacting.”

It feels somewhat strange for Val to consider this, of how many years of internal struggles that she has missed due to being so young in comparison. It puts her at a disadvantage that she feels uncomfortable with.  
Marr pushes the conversation onwards shortly after.  
“It is also unfortunate that Zhorrid was assigned to the Council at all. With Jadus as a father, she was unstable and unreliable.”

Vowrawn nods briefly.  
“Jadus always was…unpredictable and worrying. There are few people I felt as uncomfortable with as that man, and I do not speak such words lightly.”

They do not doubt him either. In fact, Vowrawn rarely admits when he feels unnerved by anyone, as to not lose the advantage, but from all the stories Val has heard of that particular Sith, it is probably not unjustified. She’s glad that he’s gone.  
That said, she won’t let the previous statement linger unquestioned.  
“You should not judge Zhorrid so harshly. Yes, I know she has betrayed us, but her father’s abuse clearly had an adverse effect on her, and then there are the events she suffered later on.”

Marr tilts his head very lightly, and there is skepticism in his voice.  
“What do you mean by that?”

Val furrows her brow.  
“You know what I mean, Marr. It cannot be ignored that the Council is partially to blame for what happened to her. She was not greeted in any friendly manner after she ascended, at least from all the stories I have been told.”

None of them came to criticize each other, but in this issue, it seems Imperius will not be silent.  
Vowrawn emits a brief sigh.  
“To be fair, it is never particularly friendly for anyone the first time they arrive, which I’m sure you can attest to, but…you are correct. It was harsher for Zhorrid, as she was the daughter of Jadus, a man that few trusted even before he was a traitor.  
She was mistreated, especially by Ravage and Thanaton, but also Hadra, Decimus and Acheron. Marr was silent for the most part, but I will admit that I found her questionable.”

Val’s frown deepens.  
“Yes, and can you not see the problem in your decisions? By staying silent, by doing nothing to aid or support her, like how at least Marr supported my ascension, she had no allies, no one to turn to against such assaults. Your actions may partially have been what drove her off, which was a foolish thing to do.”

They do not defend themselves vehemently, but Marr chooses to say a few words, at least.  
“We could not have known what consequences it would have.”

“No, but that does not matter, Marr. You should have been against their methods long ago, you should have done something to at least gain her as an ally, but you ignored it at every turn. As did you, Vowrawn, and there are no excuses for such lackluster behavior.”  
She sits back in her chair and folds her arms, eyes drifting down to the table  
“I reached out to her months ago, and I hoped it would be enough that she could have an ally in me, but it seems clear now that my actions were too late, and insufficient, to mend Zhorrid’s belief.”

The room is silent for a while longer, until Acina opens her mouth again. Her expression exposes her uncertainty.  
“It…was unfortunate that I barely got to know her, just like I have not done with several of the other Councilors. I would have tried to aid your efforts.”

“Fine, yes”, Marr finally says, “I admit that I should have spoken up sooner, I should have tried harder, but Zhorrid should also have understood what she was getting into. This was not the previous experience she had, nor could she rely on her father to make her problems go away. This is the highest echelon of Sith politics, and we could not coddle her.”

Val grits her teeth momentarily, clenching her hand as she glares at him.  
“How? You really believe Jadus would have prepared her? I bet he didn’t give a damn about what happened to her, and never thought to help her advance. From what certain sources of mine have said, he was ready to let her die to achieve his plans.  
It’s not exactly like I was ready for the Council either. I was merely hardened, because Thanaton had spent a bloody year trying to murder me. And it would not have been coddling to simply reach out in order to support her which, I will remind you of again, you did for me.”  
She exhales, starting to get tired about arguing in this regard. She only wants them to understand what they’re doing wrong, to prevent this from happening once more.  
“Whomever we promote in the future, we should be careful from now on. We have to treat every new arrival with the respect they deserve, not antagonism. Only meet it with rivalry if that is the tone we are given in return.”

While Marr doesn’t say anything, he does nod, and Vowrawn smiles.  
“You know, I am still astounded by how wise you are for such a relatively young woman”, Vowrawn tells her. “As two old Sith, I believe we are simply too used to tradition, but you will get no arguments from us and we shall keep this in mind from now on.”

“And with that, perhaps we should also try to proceed to the next topic”, Marr says, probably not having anything more to add regarding Zhorrid. “We must discuss what to do with the resources of the leaderless Spheres, while we decide who to promote.  
While we will eventually have to locate replacements, it is currently rather chaotic and there will have to be some crossovers in terms of assignments, until such a time that we have regained stability.”

This is, of course, the heart of all the reasons why they decided to assemble this group, and everyone seems at least fairly prepared for it.  
“Well, I guess there’s no doubt that you should take over the other military wings”, Val says reluctantly. Putting all the fleets and armies in one man’s hand makes her uneasy, but at least Marr has the skills, and frankly, he’s the only one capable enough in the Council.  
“It’s not like we have a choice.”

“Actually”, Vowrawn says and raises a hand, “I would point out that we do have another option. I recently heard that the Emperor’s Wrath has reached out, wishing to offer her expertise to the military.”

Marr seemingly stares at him for several seconds, before he sighs.  
“Yes, she has”, he admits skeptically, “but I remain…uncertain how to respond. She is not a member of the Dark Council.”

“Why would that matter? She’s talented, strong and eager to defend the Empire”, Val points out.

Vowrawn nods in agreement.  
“Indeed. I am very aware of how skillful and clever that woman is. She is not only great on the frontlines, but with tactics and strategy too.”

Val smiles, knowing that Vowrawn was pretty much Zal’s ticket into the Dark Council, and he has Zal’s ear cone, if need be.  
“She’s a good Sith, and she has grown into a very capable leader. She may not be one of us, but she speaks with the authority of the Emperor, she is loved in the Empire, and I am confident that she can replace the other lost leaders.”

Marr is the only one still quite doubtful, but Val knows that it may be more about general Sith rivalry, than anything else. She knows that there was some kind of confrontation between the two, months back, and even though it was solved peacefully, it can’t be ignored that Marr still probably thinks Zal is somehow Vowrawn’s pawn.  
“Very well, I understand. I will speak to her, see what she has to say.  
As for Intelligence, I believe I can take those resources from the Sphere, but something else will have to be done with the Outreach Bureau and the other departments.”

Acina nods slowly.  
“I would not mind handling the other sections of it. It won’t be an easy task to push all of them within the rest of my rather busy Sphere, but if I remain in a supervising role, perhaps that will be enough.”

Val scowls slightly and raises her hand to snap her fingers, getting their attentions back.  
“Hold on, what do you mean you’re taking Intelligence? You already have the military, now you want secrecy as well?”

The tall Councilor moves his body somewhat forward, placing his crossed arms on the table.  
“Technically, there is not much left of Intelligence, other than the basic resources and some agents, but whatever is still there needs to be used for military matters.  
We’re at war, Imperius, and we cannot ignore potential assets to gain intel on the Republic or Malgus’ Empire.”

None of the other three looks particularly satisfied, not even Vowrawn, but they relent.  
“Fine, you have…a point, I guess. Just make sure to relinquish it when we find a replacement.”

“As for the Sphere of Mysteries, I believe you should take that role, Imperius. Your current assignment is the closest we can compare it to, after all.”

Val looks fairly surprised by the suggestion, but she doesn’t say anything at first. It is eventually Acina who voices her thoughts.  
“Erm, if you don’t mind me saying so, I have to admit that I don’t actually…know what Mysteries does.”

On the other side, Val clears her throat.  
“…I have to confess having a similar problem.”

“You are not alone”, Marr tells them. “Most people in the Empire do not, as those assigned to it swear secrecy above all else.”

Vowrawn leans back in his seat, keeping his eyes on the table.  
“Thankfully, both Marr and I have investigated it through our resources for years. It tends to happen after spending much time surviving in the Dark Council.  
In a way, Mysteries has ties to Ancient Knowledge, Law and Justice, as well as Intelligence, all at the same time. They handle and protect imperial secrets and dangerous lore, things which can never be shown to the outside or that may not be revealed to the rest of the Empire. Not even most people in the Dark Council can view its contents.”

Val is feeling more and more doubtful, as her chest fills with uncertainty.  
“…what kind of secrets?”

“Most of it is ancient”, Marr says, “Dangerous and forbidden Sith alchemical designs, artifacts, intelligence reports, tomes and knowledge that cannot leave its walls. Sometimes even people.”

Vowrawn inclines his head.  
“And then there are of course the bands of secret Sith assassins. Perhaps you have heard of the Red Legion? There are more groups like them, all controlled by Rictus. Unfortunately, it is very possible that many of them have gone with him, and I’m not even sure how much of the Mysteries’ vaults that he raided, before he departed.”

Val raises her hand to scratch her neck, but she has to admit it is quite a relief that she may not have to deal with assassins. That kind of thing has never been her style to begin with.  
“I…suppose I could give it a try, see what I can do with that type of knowledge. But would the information not be locked away? I doubt Rictus would’ve left it open.”

“Indeed, I am sure he locked it as tightly as he possibly could, but I will offer what information I have to you, if you wish to unseal the vaults. You may choose yourself if you wish to open them up or leave them closed.”

Marr sits up a bit straighter again, having to had lean down against the table.  
“Then I believe we have concluded what we should do with the rest of the Council. Is there any other topic anyone wishes to discuss while we’re here?”

Acina and Vowrawn don’t seem like they have much to say, but Val has something on her mind, even if she questions the wisdom in announcing it. Perhaps these three at least deserve to know.  
“Not sure if there’s any point talking about it at length, but I might as well mention that I have a contact who is currently speaking with Mandalore.”

“Speaking with Mandalore?”, Marr repeats, sounding somewhat intrigued. “Who is this contact?”

“Sorry, I cannot reveal such information, but knowing who they are, I believe this person may actually be able to convince Mandalore to possibly offer us more direct support in the war. You know, by defending our borders and installations, at least for a time.”

Vowrawn seems quite interested, but Marr slowly shakes his head.  
“Somehow, I doubt that is entirely possible. I suppose I cannot prevent you from trying, as we do need more troops, but I will not keep my hopes up.”

“Do as you wish, I simply thought I should mention it.”

On his end, Vowrawn raises a hand to stroke one of his facial tendrils, his moustache, in thought. Shortly after, he turns an amused smile towards Val.  
“While we’re on the subject of fascinating details, I have recently heard a rather interesting rumor regarding Lord Wrath. Some have said that she may have a…companion.”

Val does not reveal anything, sitting there with the most unmoving expression she can muster.  
“Companion?”

“Yes. According to the rumor, she may have been sighted in the company of a Jedi of some kind. Rather peculiar, don’t you agree? You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Imperius?”

Val can’t help herself when she offers him a small smirk.  
“I’m sorry, Vowrawn, but whatever the Emperor’s Wrath does on her spare time is none of my business.”


	7. Spirit of opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter contains none of the "main characters" of this fic, as it features Cierah (IA) and Jovana (BH) instead. Their relationship has been in several of my other stories in the past, even had their own._

While it cannot be denied that the Spirit of Vengeance, the flagship of the Mandalorian fleet, gets lots of visitors of all varieties, most of them still tend to belong to the same kind of people - other mandalorians. They receive other guests occasionally, but most of these tend to prefer one of the more stable locations, either the capital world in their space or one of their many orbital stations, where such outsiders can be attended to without having to worry about somehow ending up in war. This isn’t the case every single time, however.

In one of the hangar bays of the large black-hulled heavy cruiser, a much smaller ship descends to the floor. It was already identified by the sensors before it went through the force field, as a D5-Mantis Patrol Craft, designation ‘Blood Fist’. The ship itself is quite rare in the galaxy, but the name is one that is very well-known in mandalorian space by now and almost always accepted wherever it wants to go.

As soon as it lands, and the entrance hatch opens up, the first sight seen beyond the door is two people eagerly interlocked with one another. It’s one fair-skinned human with black hair in a ponytail, as well as a burgundy-colored imperial uniform with black pants, being pushed up against a wall. She has her arms around a taller human, with dark brown complexion and crimson red hair in a bob cut style, wearing heavy red and white armor.  
While the first woman has a cybernetic eye patch over the left eye, the second has a black tattoo on her right cheek, possibly resembling claws or talons of some kind, and her eyes are yellow, albeit not that of dark side corruption. She is not a Force user, and much like the hair, this is merely a cosmetic addition, some kind of implants.

The duo is enjoying themselves, kissing and touching each other just before the door slides open, and when it does, they have to stop as they realize it’s time to leave.  
Jovana drops her partner on her feet, takes a step back and smirks, gesturing with her hand.  
“After you.”

Cierah doesn’t return the expression, but there is a glint of amusement in her eye.  
“Don’t pretend to be polite”, she says and starts to leave.

Before she gets very far, Jov grins after her, and reaches out with a hand to playfully, albeit gently, slap her backside. At times, this notion can annoy the agent, but she has stopped acting as if she doesn’t enjoy it, at least when they’re in private.  
Jov moves up to a button close to the door and speaks into the nearby microphone on the wall.  
“Thanks, Mako. We’ll be back soon enough.”

“Sure thing”, she hears the slicer saying through the speakers. “Just don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

Jov snorts amusedly.  
“I’m his favorite kid. What could possibly go wrong?”

She doesn’t wait, nor receive an answer, before she follows her companion and joins the agent’s side. It’s not often that they get to walk together in public, due to their very different lifestyles and how Cierah is wanted by certain factions in the galaxy, but the mandalorians don’t care. In fact, seeing how she’s with Jov, they’d probably defend her against anyone else who dares attack her, at least while she’s situated in their space. This is also why she doesn’t mind Jov keeping an arm around her shoulders.

“Nervous?”, the hunter asks her.

Cierah turns her head only slightly, so that she can glance at her girlfriend.  
“Why would I be? Is there something I should be worried about?”

“Well, I mean, you’re about to meet Mandalore, the leader of the toughest warriors in the galaxy.”

“That statement is debatable.”

Jov smirks at the slight challenge in Cierah’s voice and leans down to nudge her nose against the agent’s ear.  
“Oh c’mon, you gotta give us something. You’ve seen what we can do. You know what _I_ can do.”

The faintest of smiles plays on Cierah’s lips as she shuts her eye.  
“Fine, I suppose I can agree on that much. Honestly, though, what would make me nervous? That’s the reason I brought you, so I wouldn’t have to be. They adore you here.”

Jov leans back slightly, but doesn’t leave the embrace.  
“Oh, so you believe I’ll just take your side, huh?”

She may be teasing, but Cierah can’t be all too sure, especially in this situation.  
“Jovana…we have discussed this.”

“I know, I know, but I meant in general. Not gonna do everything you say, you know.”

Cierah rolls her eye, assuming that Jov is somehow in a playful mood, and she’s not sure if this is the best of occasions.  
“You are free to do as you wish, of course, but the consequence of this would be to find your bed woefully bereft of my company for quite a while.”

“Tsk, as if you could stay away from me that long.”

“I might, if you give me a reason for it.”

This is a dance they perform sometimes, both directly, as well as through holocalls and mails, depending on what situation they’re in. Jov seems to enjoy it much more than when things get too serious. Last time they did, she almost lost Cierah to all sorts of conspiracies and backstabbing factions. She would prefer to be given the chance to mess with her beloved, rather than have to worry about her health at all times.  
Still, perhaps this situation also requires a little more solemn approach.

“Fine, not gonna do anything to sabotage it, but don’t be so sure he’ll just listen to everything I say, though. Mandalore is Mandalore.”

Cierah arches an eyebrow questioningly.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

When they eventually get up to his office, going past the guards that wait outside who eagerly allow their entry, they see how Mandalore himself - Artus of clan Lok - stands behind a table with several holo devices placed on top. It seems he’s having a discussion of some kind with a bunch of other clan leaders. When they enter, his brown eyes connect with Jov’s immediately and he displays a small smile, getting distracted from the conversation, but it doesn’t last for long.

“What do you think, Mand’alor?”, one of them asks him.

Artus clears his throat and turns back to them, nodding thoughtfully, even if he’s already eager to shift his focus elsewhere.  
“Sounds like a good plan. Send me a report once it’s completed, will you?”

“Of course, we’ll get it done. However, there is also another matter. Some of the others were curious regarding the strategy during our next strike. Maybe you could explain if-“

It seems they’re getting into another lengthy conversation here, and Artus doesn’t really have time for it. He raises his hand.  
“Listen, something has come up, so we’ll have to postpone the rest of this discussion until later. Continue your current assignments, send the files to some of my subordinates and I’ll look through it all when I’ve got the time.”

Some of them look quite disappointed with this abrupt end, but due to who he is, they can’t really complain.  
“As you wish, Mand’alor.”

After having ended it, he shuts down the holographic devices and then moves towards his guests. He spreads his arms and chuckles.  
“Su’cuy gar, ad’ika. It’s good to see you again, Jovana.”

The first section could be translated, in this situation, into something close to ‘my girl’, as a simple friendly gesture, but Jov knows it may also hold a deeper meaning. She can’t say for sure if that’s the case right now.  
Regardless, she smiles and lifts her arm, so that they can bump their wrist guards together.  
“Su’cuy gar, old man. In another tactical conversation, huh? Glad to see you can always find new ways to bore yourself.”

He laughs and the way he keeps his arm around her shoulder is almost in a half-hug.  
“Well, not all of us can have fun on the battlefield, you know. Our people needs me to coordinate everything, or we won’t survive for long.”

“Better you than me, that’s for sure.”

He smirks slightly.  
“So you’re saying you won’t take this position for a few days if I want to have a vacation?”

“Tsk, as if Mandalore ever gets holidays.”

He was so focused on Jovana, that it’s not until he’s about to ask what she’s doing here that he suddenly notices the other woman in the room, somewhat behind Jov.  
“Oh, we have another guest”, he says, but his eyes quickly change into something more skeptical when he examines her outfit.  
“And a…special one at that. Who’re you?”

Jov takes a step back, closer to her companion and gestures at her.  
“She’s with me. Let me introduce Cierah Draconius, someone I’ve known for…well, several years now.”

Cierah closes the distance to their host, lifts her hand and offers it to Artus.  
“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I am a representative of the Sith Empire, and I came here to speak with you.”

The gaze she gets in return is a rather doubtful one and he does not take her hand to begin with, folding his arms instead.  
“What do you mean by that? You’re not Sith?”

“No, I’m not, but I have the ears of many prominent Sith, as well as control of important resources. I was sent here on their behalf, specifically to speak with you, Lord Mandalore.”

Artus narrows his eyes slightly, suspicion being quite evident within them.  
“Speak about what, exactly?”

“Well, in many ways, both our partnership and the future of the Empire, as well as the mandalorians. I’m sure you will find it of interest.”

It takes a few moments for anything to change, as if he’s not actually sure whether she’s telling the truth or if he merely doubts it. Either way, he finally lowers his hand to shake hers. Unfortunately, it is a rather…firm one, perhaps a bit too much, to the extent where it kinda starts to hurt her after a while.  
“Fine, I might be willing to listen. And it’s just Mandalore.”

Cierah eventually manages to retract her hand without getting it crushed and she clears her throat, wondering if she somehow displeased him.  
“You ‘might’ be?”

Artus nods and places his hands on his hips.  
“Yeah, because I’m not all too sure yet. I believe I may have heard of you as well, you see. You’re the one who's been associated very closely with Jovana for a while, right?”

‘Associated’ is one way to put it and the two women share a glance before Cierah returns to him.  
“Well…yes, that is correct.”

“I’ve also heard that you might’ve been a pretty…important member of a certain organization. A little secretive group that has a notorious reputation in the galaxy, which apparently doesn’t exist anymore.”

Now that makes her suspicious, as this data should be classified. She’s very sure that no one in her old organization would’ve sold info to someone like Mandalore.  
“How is that possible? You can’t have been privy to such information.”

The snort he emits is somewhere in between amused and derisive.  
“You think it’s only Imperial Intelligence that has contacts who can get vital intel?”

Cierah furrows her brow somewhat and then stares at Jov. The other mandalorian merely shrugs.  
“Hey, don’t look at me. I wouldn’t tell him anything about you without your agreement.”

Artus doesn’t appear particularly pleased about that, but he doesn’t comment on it.  
Cierah ponders the idea for a few moments, until she reaches an epiphany of sorts and sighs.  
“…Mako.”

Artus nods, a somewhat smug look on his face.  
“Mako.”

“Well, okay, fine. Yes, I used to be a part of Intelligence, but what does it matter?”

He folds his arms and takes a step back, leaning against his desk once more.  
“I think it’s an important detail that we shouldn’t overlook, that’s why it matters. Mako has told me a lot of other things, you know, such as the fact that you and Jovana are…very close.”

This is a topic that both Cierah and her girlfriend knows that she doesn’t enjoy speaking about with others, because it’s a private matter and no one else’s business.  
“This is not what I am here to discuss.”

“Maybe that’s true, but now that you are here, it’s a pretty important subject, don’t you think?”

“How is it important?”

“Because you’re using her to get to me.”

Cierah frowns deepens and she moves to cross her own arms.  
“I…am using her as a contact, yes, but I am not manipulating her, nor am I trying to deceive you in any way.”  
Technically, the former statement is mostly true, but the latter is more doubtful, even for Jov. If Cierah can trick Mandalore, she probably would.

For the time being, Artus holds firm against her protests.  
“If I’m not entirely mistaken, the Empire isn’t exactly in a great state right now, is it? If you’re a representative on its behalf, then it’s pretty clear you wanna talk about our role in preventing the Empire’s demise.”

“Yes, of course, because we might need aid now that we have more than one enemy. Can we focus on the topic at hand, please?”

Artus pushes himself away from the table, coming closer to the duo and makes sure that he and Cierah stare deeply into each other’s eyes.  
“No, I won’t do that. If you want to talk about your precious Empire, you have to oblige me first. What interests me isn’t your home, but the two of you.”

Cierah's frown doesn’t cease, as she's not enjoying being on the receiving end in a conversation. She prefers being in control, holding all the cards. This is why she hates diplomacy.  
“In what way?”

His face moves even closer, and there’s not much in between them now.  
“You’re an imperial agent, you used to do all kinds of shit for the Empire. You broke in where you wanted, killed who they told you to, and created chaos whenever you could, doing things I can’t approve of.  
I’m gonna be real honest with you – I don’t like Imperial Intelligence and I definitely don’t fucking trust them; never did. Your people attacked and killed some I knew, even assaulted me on a few occasions. Hell, in the past, they tried to murder Jovana as well.”

Why was all this not in his dossier? Well, she knows that Intelligence have occasionally killed mandalorians, just like they’ve had to face people from all origins, even the Empire, but why hasn’t she heard anything specifically about Mandalore’s opinion? Sloppy research on her part.  
“…yes, that may be true, but there’s a few details one must consider in this equation.  
A) Your people have attacked and killed many of mine in the past as well, both long ago and recently, B) I was not responsible for any unlawful attacks against any of your kind, especially not Jovana, and C) Jovana was not yet a mandalorian when the attack on her occurred. In fact, she willingly associated with one of us and while I disapprove of the actions of those agents, I cannot be blamed for them.”

His own scowl seems about as fierce as hers, as he remains in his position.  
“You think that matters? It doesn’t. She’s a part of us now and that makes all of her attackers a personal insult towards us.  
And do you know how frustrating it is that you believe you can simply come barging in here, considering who you used to be affiliated with, and think you can request anything from us? That’s not how this works.”

Not an entirely fair assessment, in her mind, but perhaps she should admit that she has done the same in the past.  
“If that is so important to you, perhaps you should also be aware of the fact that I have known Jovana for _years_ before she joined the mandalorians.”

From her angle, it kinda looks like his jaw tightens and his glare intensifies.  
“Are you trying to say you know her better than us?”

“Most certainly, yes.”

Artus snorts, this time definitely in a derisive manner.  
“Years don’t matter here, agent, not when both you and I know she has changed. She embraced our culture, became a mandalorian.”

“Perhaps that’s what you believe as someone who didn’t know her, and while she may have altered her behavior somewhat, it’s not enough to view her a completely new person. She was strong, decisive, brave, and honorable, long before she met any of you. It also does not remove the reality of how our relationship survived her initiation. I won’t let you forget that.”

Jov still stands to the side, just observing the conversation with mild surprise, but she won’t deny that she quite enjoys hearing this kind of praise.  
“Well, I haven’t been asked about your relationship yet”, Artus tells her, “but I’m gonna give you my opinion, whether you want it or not – I don’t trust you, so I don’t like it. It’s that simple.”

Cierah sighs and finally turns her gaze away, breaking their duel of glaring.  
“I don’t understand why this is supposedly such an important detail here. You are not her father.”

She didn’t believe this would have as much of an effect as it does, but Artus actually goes silent after she says this, and it remains this way until Jov intervenes.  
“Well, uh…technically, he did adopt me into his clan, so…you know, he sort of is.”

“You’re not helping, Jovana”, Cierah says with a sigh.

Artus takes a step away from her and waves his hand dismissively.  
“Whether I’m officially her father or not doesn’t really matter to me”, he says, although both women are now very skeptical after his previous reaction.  
“Jovana is a member of clan Lok, _my clan_ , and you are an unknown to us. In our culture, that’s an unacceptable truth, especially if you two ever intend to go further than that.”

“Perhaps, but what do you want me to do about it? It’s not just my fault that I have met so few of you.”

“Not gonna say you’re wrong, but that’s why I have a proposal for you.”  
He folds his arms again.  
“If you want anything from us, especially me, you’re gonna have to offer something in return.”

Cierah sighs and rolls her eye. What could they possibly want from her? It’s credits, hopefully, but she gets the sense that won’t be the case.  
“Fine, if it’s absolutely necessary. What do you need?”

“I want you to join us on a hunt.”

She halts any notions of continuing onwards and blinks in surprise, before she arches her brow.  
“A…hunt?”

“Yes, a good old mando’ade hunt for beasts. It’s a tradition that is part of practically every clan, with all sorts of different history and rituals involved. Since you’ll come with us, you won’t just be involved, but you’ll also learn more of what it means to be one of clan Lok.”

“And what would that accomplish?”

“This is what we do, agent, it’s part of who we are. I don’t know who you are, but I can find out, and the best way is through a hunt.”

Cierah doesn’t actually look as annoyed now, but more uncertain. She turns her gaze towards Jov, hoping to get a better response, but the hunter merely shrugs.  
“Might as well try it, right? Could be fun. It’s been a while since we did something similar together.”

It’s not just what she says, but seeing that gentle and somewhat eager smile on Jov’s lips melts something in Cierah’s otherwise fairly cold heart, which is an ability that few have, outside of her family. She can’t resist.  
“…alright, fine. I will agree to it. Now, will you at least listen to my request?”

Artus rests against his desk once more, and he actually looks fairly pleased as he nods.  
“Sure, I’ll listen, but I promise nothing. Not yet.”

“Fair enough. As you’re probably aware of by now, we are at war, not just with the Republic, but the New Empire as well. We’ve lost a lot of troops, not just to fighting, but to betrayal, and we have to obtain better defenses. We need allies, ones that we can trust.  
The mandalorian clans are some of the strongest warriors in the galaxy, and could make a big difference in this fight. It’s not like it won’t be interesting for your people as well, because you will get the chance to prove yourselves by reinforcing the Empire against impossible odds. Sure, it’s not like hunting after enemies, but this is the real challenge right now.”

He considers her request carefully, running his hand over his chin before he responds.  
“I’ll admit that it was worrying to lose some entire clans, those who seek to join Malgus in order to gain the glory of conquest, so I see your angle here.  
Like I said, I can’t promise anything, but I can certainly relay the information to the other clans and give them my recommendation. I would be willing to discuss everything with this alliance and give you a response…after we’re done with the hunt.”

Cierah shakes her head and exhales. Is she really doing this? She has gone on covert missions and wilderness operations in the past, but hunting? It has just never really been her thing. Then again, perhaps Menace, her pet owl, will enjoy it.  
“We should probably arrange it soon then, as the Empire desperately needs aid.”

“Sounds good to me. Let me check my schedule”, he says and wanders off.

In the meantime, Jov steps up to her side and nudges a shoulder into Cierah’s.  
“This is kinda exciting, isn’t it?”

Cierah rolls her eye and gazes at Jov suspiciously.  
“You arranged this somehow, didn’t you?”

Jov grins back at her.  
“Hah, you think I plan that far ahead? Nah, I just love this type of stuff, babe.  
Besides…”, she says and wraps an arm around Cierah’s shoulders again, lowering her voice to a whisper, “will be hot to see you in one of our armors.”

While she closes her eye and sighs, Cierah can’t help but enjoy the sensation.  
“…you are hopeless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yep, Cierah having to fight with Jov's dad...sort of. It was inevitable._   
>  _Oh, and Mako didn't really sell Cierah out or anything, she just answered Mandalore's questions. She tried to defend Cierah, but he's still too suspicious._   
> 


	8. One house

The transfer is almost complete. Lana is still somewhat astounded, even if it was she who suggested this to begin with. She had never expected that anything like this would ever occur, at least not until it became a necessity.  
Before Malgus secession, the idea of moving in with Valcera was only a distant thought, a consideration for the future, when there wasn’t so much else in their way. Perhaps waiting for the end of the war wouldn’t exactly be a reasonable schedule, but at least another year or two. And now, she’s almost there, having her possessions being put inside another person’s-…  
Well, technically, she supposes that this will be her apartment now as well, in a way.

As the family she gave her former apartment to had to receive it very quickly, she decided to store her belongings elsewhere for a few days, until she could get some assistance with them. She can certainly move a lot of stuff with the Force, but it feels that would just take a bit too much time, and what if her concentration breaks? She’d rather not drop some of the more delicate items from a high altitude. This is why she’s glad that she is close to Val.

The people assigned to aid her are not just random workers, though. Well, most of them may be, but Val also asked Khem to help out and Lana wasn’t about to sit around doing nothing, so she decided to get involved as well. The only one who hasn’t directly carried a lot of stuff so far, is Valcera. For the most part, the Councilor has only occasionally assisted with lifting heavier objects through the Force, but other than that, she has focused on finishing some more work through her terminals at home. It seems the unofficial Queen of Dromund Kaas is not allowed to rest even on her spare time.

Thankfully, there hasn’t been too many overly heavy items involved in this, mostly due to the fact that Lana decided to leave the furniture in her own apartment. What would she do with an extra sofa anyway? Val already has more than one.  
Once it’s done, the workers depart with a few quick goodbyes, albeit politely. Val had already sent them bonus payments at the start of this endeavor, so they’re quite pleased. One who lingers, however, is Khem.

“Do you or master Imperius need anything else?”, Khem asks, currently wearing his translation device.  
“I can carry items from the boxes, if need be.”

Lana offers him a smile, but shakes her head.  
“Thank you, Khem, but that won’t be necessary. Your hard work was very appreciated, as much as the effort from the rest. I think I can take care of the details from now on.”

He releases a short snort and turns around.  
“It was very boring. Provided me with no real challenge, but I do what my master tells me.”

It’s admirable how dedicated he is, at least in Lana’s mind, but it’s weird that he performs things he doesn’t see as enjoyable. Val doesn’t even demand it of him, as she often tells him he can do what he wants, but it appears he holds her in such high regard that his own desires are less important than hers. Lana thinks that makes Val uncomfortable, but she also wants to let him be happy. It’s a strange situation all around.

“Well, I don’t think I said it would be fun.”

Khem shrugs and begins wandering towards the door.  
“I will be guarding the exterior. Call for me if anything is needed.”

Lana clears her throat.  
“Uh, I doubt that's necessary, Khem. We won’t be going anywhere.”

He stops for a moment and looks over his shoulder, his red eyes meeting hers.  
“My master was almost assassinated months ago and this was partially my fault, due to an inadequate amount of attention. I will not allow this to occur again.”

Perhaps she can’t argue with this, as he does have a point. Lana also blames herself in a way. It’s not like Val will mind having Khem around anyway.  
“Very well, do as you please”, she tells him with a slight sigh.

Once he has left, Lana turns and goes in search of her beloved, who she knows should be somewhere around here. Val has an office on the upper level, but she rarely goes there, as she prefers to keep work in the Citadel.  
She eventually finds the mirialan in the living room, but not doing work, as she’s instead leaning over some of Lana’s boxes. She has apparently opened a few of them, having put the lids on the floor to examine the contents. While Lana is walking in some simple dark green pants, a grey shirt and a black jacket, for better movement, Val is at this time seated in a long loose violet dress, a silver necklace hanging around her neck, and some red socks on her feet.

Lana stops, smirks and crosses her arms.  
“Now what is this I’ve found, huh? A Dark Councilor snooping around my belongings?”

Val looks up from where she’s sitting on the floor, returns the expression and winks.  
“I’m merely having a peek at what’s in store for us in the apartment.”

Just as Val is about to open another box, Lana approaches and puts her hands down on top. The Councilor glances up and her eyes shimmers with amusement, something that is met by a similar notion in Lana.  
“I may not appreciate it, you know”, she says, albeit with a playful undertone.

If she thought that she could keep Val away from it, however, she was sorely mistaken. The Councilor smirks, leans up to caresses Lana’s cheek and then pushes their lips together gently. It’s enough to distract her, loosen her grip, and Val utilizes the Force to throw off the lid.  
“Technically, it’s our belongings now, dear.”

Lana snorts as she stands back up, not trying to stop Val anymore. She’ll let her girlfriend win, for now.  
“Is that so? I’ll remember that for when it’s time to look through your things.”

Now that she’s out of the way, Val continues search the boxes that she opened earlier, inspecting the items with fascination.  
“Don’t be so suspicious, darling. I just want to see what you brought. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Lana merely smiles and shakes her head, while she heads over to some other containers.  
“You are far too curious about this. You’ve already been in my old apartment before, so why is it interesting now?”

“Because over there, I would’ve had to look through every box and hidden drawer, which would’ve taken time. Now it’s all out here in the open!”

Because of what she says, but also partially due to her excitement, Lana can’t help but laugh. For the time being, she’s trying to open a few other boxes and unpack some clothes, which she hopes to store within Val’s wardrobe.  
“It’s cute that you think I tried to hide things from you.”

As she leaves the room, Val smirks after her.  
“We’ll just have to see what pops up, don’t we?”  
She disappears for only a few minutes, and once she comes back, Val is still on the floor, currently holding a metal cylinder in her hands, with technological pieces around it. She lifts it up and shows it to Lana.  
“Why do you keep an old lightsaber in here?”

Lana offers her a small smile, as she passes by.  
“That was the first one I was ever given, by my first master. It was just after I became an apprentice, to cement my success as an acolyte.”

That apparently makes Val a lot more intrigued, as she turns it around in her hands.  
“Ooh, is that so? It seems very well-used.”

“It was. I fought hard to gain it and while it was already old by the time I received it, I didn’t want to simply throw it away.”

Val smiles knowingly.  
“Ah, I see. You received your master’s old lightsaber? Zash did something similar for me.”

“Well, it wasn’t just my master’s old one, but a weapon that had apparently been used for generations.”  
She stops to sit down by the table in the middle of the room, folding her arms as she does.  
“Holding it for the first time was…different. I could sense the flow of strong energy running through it so naturally, that it almost felt like wielding the Force itself.”

Val nods as she continues to watch the mechanical creation, shifting it around a bit.  
“It’s pretty light. I suppose you took out most of the important components?”

“Well, yes, some of them. Eventually, it got so old and broken that it started to malfunction, so I had to acquire a new one. I was to be its last user, it seems.  
I took out the crystal and a few other key items, but decided to save the rest of the hilt, just in case.”  
She displays another faint smile.  
“It did a lot for me, and many other people in the past. Throwing it away would’ve been…unfortunate.”

She receives a similar expression from Val.  
“Well, you’re speaking to the head of Ancient Knowledge, so you will get no argument from me.”  
Stroking her fingers over the old and only somewhat rusted item, she gains a distant look in her eyes.  
“I have to admit that it was quite a relief for me to receive my first weapon from Zash as well, even if the circumstances were very strange. I was always jealous of the overseers in the academy, for having them and for being allowed to wield such power.”

Lana tilts her head curiously.  
“But you don’t really use yours much, do you?”

“Tsk, well, no, but that wasn’t really the point. Even after my time as a slave was technically over, I knew I’d never truly be free until I was a Sith, and having a lightsaber was the ultimate proof of this. I had to get one.”

Lana acknowledges it with a nod.  
“True enough and I can certainly understand this notion. I mean, obviously my past was far from as horrible as yours, but I know about the difficulty of becoming Sith and the very system that we inhabit. It’s always a matter of rank.”

Wanting to move on from this topic, Val puts the old weapon down and instead fishes up something else that she finds intriguing. It appears to be an actual physical photograph of some kind, imprinted on a plastic card.  
“Ooh, what’s this? You and your parents, right? You look so young here.”

She hears a snort from Lana, as the advisor rolls her eyes.  
“Not all too much. That was several years ago now, though. It was the time when I was first properly assigned to the Sphere of Military Offense.”

Another thing that Val obviously knows about, but haven’t heard much details for.  
“Ah, that makes sense. I have to say that this is a very official photo, though. Don’t think I ever received any opportunity like this myself.”

At the edge of her sight, she can see how Lana smiles and shakes her head.  
“Well, the photo itself wasn’t really taken for that reason. One of the channels assigned to the Outreach Bureau, which was associated with my family and their company, also found an interest in the opportunity and wanted to make a special piece.”

Val arches her brow skeptically.  
“What, so they broadcasted your ascension on the HoloNet?”

“Eh, sort of, but nothing all too big. It was in one of their smaller outlets, I guess, more for a local network. I suppose you could call it a public relations trick, in order to show how my family was rising, but I didn’t really care much. I just thought it was a very nice picture, which is why I saved it.”

“Mm, can’t really argue with that. You do look very fancy in that outfit.”

Lana seems amused while she runs a hand through her hair.  
“More were taken at a later date, but since this was during a good time of my life, I wanted to save this particular one.”

“Well, we will probably have time to take many pictures together as well, especially with what’s in store for us.”

There isn’t an immediate response, as Lana doesn’t quite know what to say. It is both intriguing and somewhat worrying. What sort of things are Val planning? She probably won’t tell, even if Lana asks.  
“I hope you’re right.”

The third item that Val lifts out from Lana’s boxes is quite a weird creation. It’s an oddly shaped metallic formation, with discs and thin slices that are bent and fairly sharp. It’s confusing to the extent that the Councilor has to twist it around in her hands, seemingly without knowing which side is up or down.  
“Uh, what’s this? I can’t tell what it’s supposed to resemble.”

From the table, she hears giggling from Lana. The human gets a slight glare from Val.  
“Sorry, I’m not mocking you. It’s erm, an aluminum sculpture, actually.”

“Right, I guessed that much. Why are you laughing, though?”

“Well…I received it from Darth Vengean years ago, when I was assigned to be his advisor. He made it.”

Val widens her eyes slightly, and suddenly she emits a chuckle.  
“Oh, now I understand. Why would he do that for you?”

“It wasn’t actually just for me. He apparently had a thing where he would send gifts to his closest subordinates, whether they were Lords or not. The nature of the gift was dependent on your rank. Advisors, such as myself, apparently received things like this, which he made on his own. He saw himself as an artist I believe. I found it both amusing and sort of cute, at the same time. I had to save it.”

There’s only a snort from the Councilor, before she slowly puts it down.  
“Well, if I received something like that from Thanaton, I probably would’ve kept it too, out of sheer astonishment.”  
When her hands are free, she turns her gaze to Lana.  
“Do you regret that Vengean is gone?”

Lana runs a hand slowly and thoughtfully over her chin, crossing her legs at the same time.  
“I’m not sure that I do. He was good to me on a professional level, but I can’t say he was actually a good person. In the end, he probably deserved what he got. He was the one who tried to start this war, after all.”

She considers it for a while longer, but remains satisfied with her response. After she’s done, she stands up and moves to another box, preparing to take the items out, but she doesn’t get too far. She hadn’t noticed how Val had risen and now stands behind her, wrapping arms around Lana’s waist in a very tender way.  
“I must say, it feels good to finally have something to celebrate, after all the horrid and stressful things that has happened as of late”, Val practically whispers to her. “While I still have much to do, I am definitely glad to be distracted by something as…domestic as this.”

Lana is about to respond, but has to close her eyes when she feels how Val’s lips appear on the back of her neck, kissing along the way up to her cheek. Eventually, Lana is convinced to want something more intimate as well, and therefore spins around in Val’s arms.  
She faces her girlfriend, places arms over Val’s shoulders and leans in to kiss her deeply. This sensation, intermingled with the touch of Val’s hands over her hips, imbues her with a rather blissful state, one that she will agree felt very distant only days ago.

After they slightly part their lips, they keep their bodies close together, nudging their foreheads against one another.  
“It’s not like the tough times are over, with everything we still have to do”, Lana admits, “but at least we won’t be far away from each other now.  
That said, I have already heard skepticism from others, even Darth Marr. He didn’t seem very pleased when I mentioned I’m moving in with you.”

Val opens her eyes and locks their gazes together, raising her eyebrow in a confused manner.  
“How so? A lot of people are already aware of our relationship, I think. We haven’t exactly been hiding it.”

“True enough, but I suspect some believe that you might be performing some sort of power play, especially now that the Dark Council is shattering.”

Val shakes her head, not getting any wiser by this.  
“Power play? By living under the same roof as the woman I love? Some people have a very weird definition of that term.”

Lana release a short chuckle.  
“I believe some are saying that it seems you’re trying to seize more power. Now that I’m assigned under Marr, it might look like you are taking resources from him, through me. I am an advisor, after all.”

“Yes, but, even if Marr is the main military leader, it’s not like he owns that part of it. I suppose I can see their point, but I still find it utterly ridiculous.”

Her brow is currently furrowed, and she seems to be getting annoyed by this idea, which somewhat amuses Lana, who gently strokes a thumb along Val’s cheek, over her tattoo.  
“It’s not like you’re actually going to care anyway, right?”

At first, Val shrugs, but there’s still a small bit of tension on her features.  
“Not about any rumors, no. If they want to gossip, they’re free to do so.  
However, if you get into trouble because of this, I am not going to simply stand by.”  
She locks her eyes more properly with Lana’s again.  
“In fact, if you start to get worried, talk to Zal’riva. She’s part of the military top now, and we’re friends. If anyone threatens you, Zal will take care of them, I swear.”

It’s almost astounding to Lana how a Dark Councilor and the Emperor’s Wrath can be such good friends, but these are also strange times.  
“I’ll remember that. I’ve actually already received a holocall from Lord Wrath. She wanted to assure me that she’s only here to cooperate and I told her that she can call me any time she needs assistance.”  
Her eyes drift away, recalling a few distinct memories.  
“I remember meeting her, but it’s still funny to me how blunt she can be.”

“Heh, well, it’s mostly a façade that Zal puts up, in order to make people underestimate her. She’s very intelligent, really.”

“Oh, I know. I spoke to her during the festival on Ziost. She’s fascinating in many ways.”  
While Lana would like to keep talking about this somewhat more pleasant topic, she starts to get pulled back to the former.  
“But, like I said, even if it may be incorrect, some still view our relationship as a matter of politics. They likely believe that you’re trying to strengthen your powerbase by having me.”

Val exhales with some measure of irritation.  
“I know, but that doesn’t take away the fact that it’s stupid.”  
She raises a hand to Lana’s cheek, caressing it gently.  
“You are not part of my assets or my resources. You are my strength, my light in the darkness, as lame as that sounds.”

Whether Val feels embarrassed while saying it or not, it still fills Lana with warmth to hear it. She shuts her eyes, placing her forehead against Val’s again, letting their noses gently bump into each other, while their lips brush teasingly close for a few moments, so that they can feel the softness of their skins.  
Eventually, the temptation is too fierce to resist, and they kiss once more, less tenderly and with an increased sense of desire. This is only enhanced by how Lana feels that Val squeezes her hips somewhat, which is why the advisor pushes herself against her beloved.

Now that they’re finally living so close together, and will be sleeping in the same bed practically every night, there will be a lot more opportunities for this sort of endeavor, but neither of them see a reason to slow down. After all they’ve gone through in the last several months, perhaps even for the past year, who can blame them when they say that this type of intimacy is something that they require on a regular basis?

Without pulling away, although once the kisses briefly stop, Lana takes the chance to ask another question.  
“So, when are we having the ‘moving in’ party?”

Val has her eyes closed, and yet still manages to arch her eyebrow.  
“…excuse me? Why would we have that?”

“Well, I think most people expect us to have one.”

It makes Val smirk somewhat, although she doesn’t have much movement for her head at this point.  
“But I already lived here before you moved in.”

“True enough, but this is something special on its own, wouldn’t you say? It would be pleasant to celebrate our union. Or, you know, our union of living in the same quarters.  
Besides, Bejarah has already started planning it. Oh, and Ashara joined her, I believe. Talos, Andronikos, Francine, Simiris, Lord Wrath, Jaesa, Vette – a lot of people are already accepting invitations.”

There probably should be a lot more outrage to suddenly hear this, but Val only manages to emit a resigned sigh.  
“Somehow, I should’ve expected this. It’s going to be such a mess. This is my apartment! You people can’t just…ugh.”

Lana giggles once more due to how quickly Val gave up.  
“I believe it’s _ours_ now, no?”

With a slight pout, Val glares at Lana.  
“You just want to get me drunk, don’t you?”

“Pretty sure I can do that without a fancy reason, my Queen.”

Val rolls her eyes, now when Lana is starting to use titles.  
“Fine, fine, I suppose I can agree to it, as long as we do not invite any absurd guests. Not any Dark Councilors, for example.”

She spots a small smirk on Lana’s lips.  
“No Darth Vowrawn, hmm?”

“Especially _not_ Vowrawn. If we did, I’m afraid we’d find our apartment burning when we wake up in the morning.”

It seems that both find this thought quite amusing, so they start to laugh together, leaning against each other. They have to sit down for the moment, but this proves to be another dangerous decision, as they are drawn to each other once more. It doesn’t take long until they move from simple kisses, to letting their hands roam, touching each other in very private regions. They get rather excited, especially since it’s been a few days that they last had this chance.

While Val nibbles on Lana’s neck, the advisor gasps and whispers to her.  
“We should…probably try to unpack all of the stuff I brought, you know.”

“Mm, true, but…wouldn’t you rather unpack something else?”

As she says this, she begins to slide the top of her own dress to the side, towards her shoulder, as she looks intently at her companion. Glimmers of desire and amusement can be seen in Lana’s eyes.  
“Living with you is going to be even more distracting.”


	9. Seeking difficulty

The Imperial Citadel in Kaas City is certainly one of the more important buildings for administrative and leadership purposes, but it is not the only location in the Empire dedicated to such activities. If it was, there definitely wouldn’t be enough space for all the other Sith and personnel that are needed to oversee the vast amount of space that the Empire deals with. One critical world of this element happens to be Ziost, where a lot of other Sphere headquarters are located.

In one small office, somewhere in New Adasta – the capital of this world – sits two women on their own and discusses an important topic. Well, technically, only one is talking at this time and she is actually walking around behind a desk, not sitting.  
Lord Jaesa Willsaam is wearing a set of dark grey and red robes, with a long cape and metallic shoulderpads. She has a serious look on her face, her hair arranged neatly, and she attempts to sound very sincere, keeping her voice in a bit deeper tone.

“I understand what it is you are likely searching for, my lord, and I want to assure you that I am that Sith. No one else can be as beneficial to you as I will be.  
Surely, you have heard of my powers by now? I can see the very nature of any Force user from within, deem their spirits worthy or not; no one escapes my gaze. If I sense so much as close to the false answer of what we seek, I can easily root them out and…”  
She tries to continue her pose, her stance and vigor, but she hesitates. The words have fallen out of her and she desperately tries to pull them back, but it’s too late. She clears her throat, and the façade momentarily disperses, showing her softer side again and she turns to look at the other woman.  
“…erm, line?”

Across the room, sitting in a much more casual outfit of a blue jacket, white shirt, quite tight black pants and long boots, is Vette. The twi’lek has her legs crossed, a datapad in her hands and now a fairly amused look on her face.  
“Sure – ‘and purge their treacherous hearts for the glory of the Empire’, I think”, says, just barely being able to hold her laughter.

“Right”, Jaesa says and nods, trying to get back into the right stance. “Let me just return to the spot we were on previously.  
…it was the false nature part, right?”

Vette chuckles.  
“Right.”

Jaesa sighs slightly.  
“Don’t laugh, Vette. That makes this harder.”

The twi’lek tries to hold a hand over her mouth.  
“Sorry! Continue.”

Taking a deep breath, the Sith Lord does her best to appear a lot more serious again.  
“I can see the very nature of any Force users from within, deem their spirits worthy or not; no one escapes my gaze. If I sense so much as close to the false answer of what we seek, I can easily root them out and purge their treacherous hearts for the glory of the Empire. The galaxy will never see them again.”  
She releases a slight cough after that, hoping to pursue the next line with more vigor.  
“Believe me when I say that…”  
Unfortunately, she quickly realizes that it won’t happen, and she gives up, slumping her shoulders.  
“Dammit, it won’t work. I’ve lost the fierceness of the moment now.” She stops and leans against the table, shaking her head.  
“This is impossible.”

“I did tell you it wouldn’t be easy.”

“Yes, but…”, she exhales again, before she directs her eyes towards Vette.  
“Master Zal’riva makes it look so easy, but I don’t know how she does it. She’s so much better at playing the stern Sith than me.  
You think I’ve maybe…gone a bit too far with this?”

Vette considers what she says, before putting down the datapad on a chair nearby.  
“Yeah, there’s probably some truth to that. Not sure if this is your style, after all.  
That said, you do look kinda cute when you try to be angry”, she says with an added wink.

Jaesa rolls her eyes.  
“…not helping.”

“Sorry. It is true, though.”

Lifting her hand up to her chin in thought, Jaesa begins to pace behind the table.  
“Maybe I should change the speech. You know, make it less bombastic and focus on the purpose of what I’m trying to say. Feels like there’s a lot of words in there, as if I’m attempting to reassure them too much, but I only want them to know that they’ll need me. Surely, if I tell them of my powers, that’ll make them interested, right?”  
Once more, she faces her girlfriend.  
“What do you think?”

Vette remains where she is, but shrugs, having a pretty simple answer.  
“Just try to be genuine, Jae.”

“…what?”

“This whole speech thing is too much, in my opinion, especially for an occasion like this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it is impressive and all, but is it really necessary to prepare something so massive for this? You seem to have problems remembering it all and you have to strain yourself too much, when we don’t even know that this is what the other Sith are looking for. Honestly, I think you should just try to be yourself.”

This isn’t the first time that she has heard this, as Vette said the same thing when Jaesa suggested that preparing herself in this manner might be preferable. She still feels hesitant, though.  
“I…I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. Yes, I would prefer if we chose honesty, but it seems more likely that they won’t accept me then.”

Vette shrugs.  
“Are you sure? I mean, isn’t it better to have gone in with an honest heart, rather than a mask and some stupid words?”

“In this case…I don’t know.”

To redo the whole plan from scratch may not be what they prefer to do, but there’s little else that they can try at this stage, as Jaesa is losing faith in her original plan. It is hard to tackle issues like this, and she wishes that she could go to someone and ask for help, but that would not be right. She needs to do this alone. Well, without any other Sith, at least.  
She is about to say something else, when the door to the office suddenly slides open. Both women look fairly surprised, preparing themselves for some kind of situation, but the tall figure who enters is very familiar to both.

“Oh, master! I didn’t feel your presence. I must have been distracted.”

Vette smiles and raises her hand.  
“sup, Zal.”

Zal’riva walks inside, dressed in her heavy grey and red armor, with the long coat in the same colors above it all. She looks amused as she folds her arms, glances between them, and waits until the door has shut behind her.  
“I heard a lot of noise from the outside before stepping in. Didn’t expect you two to be so loud. Is everything alright?”

Jaesa nods.  
“Don’t worry, it is.”

Unfortunately, she is not on the same page as her girlfriend, and Vette clears her throat.  
“Eh, don’t listen to her. It’s not perfect.”

Zal arches her brow questioningly.  
“What’s wrong? Something I should know?”

With a heavy sigh, Jaesa moves around the desk and sits down on top of it.  
“Okay, I will admit that there may be an issue or two that I am struggling with.  
I’m…having a bit of a problem with certain elements of the Sith Order and my place in it.”

She hardly even needs to open up their bond to sense Zal’s emotions, because the fact that the twi'lek frowns should be enough of a sign that she’s concerned.  
“Really? In what way? Does it have something to do with resources? Or is someone trying to mess with you? If it’s either of those, let me take care of them. I won’t let anyone-“

Jaesa raises her hands and interrupts her.  
“No, wait! Calm down, master. It’s nothing like that, really. Well, for the most part, it isn’t.”

At the same time, Vette smirks as she leans back in her seat.  
“You sure, Jae? I dunno, I’d kinda wanna see Zal go around and punch a few of those people. Might make ‘em treat you better.”

“Vette, please…”

“Okay, okay, if you really don’t want it, I guess we don’t have to. Can save the punching for later.”

Jaesa sighs and shakes her head, directing her attention to Zal again.  
“I can tell you, master, but I would prefer if you don’t overreact.”

Zal inclines her head.  
“Very well, I’ll do my best. Can’t promise anything.”

Even if she promoted Jaesa and opened new opportunities, a certain protectiveness remains. The human enjoys that fact in some ways, but it can get overzealous at times.  
“It’s more of a personal problem, sort of. I sincerely appreciate that you promoted me to an actual Lord, and all the resources you have sent me, to properly establish my presence in the Empire, but my situation remains…uncertain.”

“How?”

“It isn’t so much what I have in my possession, but the fact that some people are doubtful of what it is I actually do. What is my place in the Empire?  
All Sith are supposed to be part of some kind of Sphere, except for the Emperor’s Wrath and other servants under that man. I technically belong to you, but at the same time I do not. It’s not like I’m your successor or the Emperor somehow expects me to serve him directly; at least I don’t think so. This means people assume that I will join a Sphere without being ordered to.”

Zal is frowning at this time, and she clenches and unclenches one of her hands as she seems to ponder the idea.  
“I see. Don’t know if I entirely agree, but I see the point, I suppose.”

“I did initially try to oppose it, saying that I should be allowed to be independent as well, but now I understand their angle and that it might not be so bad, after all.  
This is why I have done my best to turn the whole situation around and potentially join a Sphere. I believe I’ve come to a decision.”

“Oh? And I didn’t even know you were in this mess. May I hear your conclusion?”

Jaesa smiles and nods.  
“Of course.  
Well, to begin with, I sat down to consider a variety of options, taking each one through my mind. First of all, I wondered if not the military Spheres are preferable, as it’s practically where I’ve been thus far, and you are there as well. It’s likely that people would have an easier time to accept me there too, but I quickly came to question this prospect. Sure, I can do a lot of good in that sector, but is the military something I’m really into? Dedicated to? Do I want to be part of a constantly pushing frontline? Probably not.”

While she’s somewhat disappointed, Zal nods slowly.  
“True, I wouldn’t say you are particularly eager to fight for glory.”

Jaesa’s expression remains.  
“Thank you, master. I knew you would understand.  
My second thought was to instead approach Ancient Knowledge. It isn’t just for what it provides, but also because I like master Valcera. She’s smart, kind, and would probably be eager to challenge my knowledge whenever possible.  
However, while I enjoy the mysteries of the Force, I don’t think I’d want to dedicate my entire time to it, as much fun as it would be. I need to stay focused on my goal.”

“Your goal? And what would that be?”

She lifts a hand, holding it over her chest.  
“I looked into my heart and tried to see what it is I truly want to do in this Empire, what my innermost wish could be, and that is when it dawned on me – Sith Philosophy.”

The room remains silent for a moment, until Zal looks very skeptical.  
“…Sith Philosophy? Really?”

“Yes.”

“The people who want to purge all the potential ‘light side’ structures of the Empire? If you wish to call them that.”

“Well…while it’s certainly true that they might hunt anyone who drifts too close to what is seen as the ‘Jedi ways’, it’s not actually their job. The purpose of the Sphere is to uphold the basics of the Sith Code as well as the ideas of the Sith within the Order, and partially the rest of the Empire.  
In essence, it’s a matter of philosophy, rather than law; a matter of principles, and not adhering specifically to the dark side.”

She doesn’t seem to be reassuring Zal with what she’s saying, if that’s what she’ trying to do.  
“It does sound like it to me, actually.”

“Yes, I know that, but just give me a chance to explain.  
I believe that, if the idea of what the Sith mean to our people changes, then the tenets of Sith Philosophy will alter with it, and that does not necessarily have to follow the ideal or the stereotype of either the dark side, nor the light.  
The Sith Code, while often quite aggressive, can be interpreted much more loosely than the Jedi Code, which means that it’s something we can work with. Besides, who of all the Sith around truly hold themselves to the Code at all times? No, I believe that Sith Philosophy is very much what the name tells us, and it has a lot of potential to be driven towards another path. And honestly, isn’t that what we’ve been aiming for this entire time - to change the Sith? I believe it is the perfect Sphere for me to truly make a difference, especially due to the status of leadership that the Order still has.”

Despite how secure she seems in her words and her actions, Zal doesn’t mirror it.  
“I…see your point, Jaesa, but I can’t help worrying for you regardless. It will be very difficult to protect you in there, after all.”

Jaesa smiles and shrugs.  
“So? I don’t really mind, as this is what I want to do. I need something to fight for, just like what you have, and to make new allies. This is the perfect route for me to take.”

Probably hoping to find an ally, Zal turns towards Vette.  
“And what about you? Are you okay with this?”

The other twi’lek tilts her head back and forth a few times before responding.  
“Eh, for the most part, yeah. I mean, I am skeptical, probably like you, but I try to be open-minded.  
I wanted Jae to get away from this sort of stuff to begin with, to maybe take herself towards Val, or even that Vowrawn guy, and this Philosophy thing is definitely not what I’d pick.  
But then again, this isn’t really my choice, is it? Jae should be allowed to go her own way, to do what she thinks is best, and I’m gonna be there to back her up, no matter what.”

While Zal sighs and shakes her head, dissatisfied with the response, Vette does make Jaesa smile as she approaches her girlfriend and kisses her cheek tenderly.  
“This is why I always want you at my side.”

“And why I’m the best, right?”, Vette says, adding another wink at the end.

Zal watches them silently for a few moments, trying to come to terms with this development. She doesn’t know if she’ll feel secure in it at any point.  
“Have you spoken to Arvade yet?”

Jaesa faces her master once more, but stands next to Vette.  
“Briefly. She seemed…interested, from what she told me, but wanted a meeting to discuss it all first.”

When she hears it, Zal looks contemplative, raising a hand to stroke her own chin.  
“Hmm…that may give us an opportunity, actually. Perhaps I can help you in some way. I could convince Arvade beforehand, make her see that you are-“

Interrupting her once more, Jaesa raises a hand to calm Zal.  
“Please, master, that won’t be necessary. I appreciate all you have done for me and everything you want to do, but I must do this alone. People have to see that I am no longer your apprentice, but a proper Sith Lord and I don’t need anyone else’s help to gain favors.”

Zal looks reluctant still, but also guilty.  
“Dammit…you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin this for you. I just…care, I guess.”

With a very gentle smile, Jaesa walks up to Zal and puts her hands around one of the twi’lek’s, letting their gazes be locked for a few moments.  
“I know, and I love you for it, something you should already be aware of. But trust me, master, I will be fine.”

The large Sith looks down at the smaller one, takes a deep breath, exhales, and then leans down to kiss Jaesa’s forehead.  
“Of course, I always trust you.”

“And hey, don’t worry too much, Zal”, says Vette, “it’s not like she’ll be alone. I’m with her and the two of us can do this, if you believe in us.”

Jaesa nods in agreement.  
“Certainly. Besides, your stature might be somewhat…overwhelming, anyhow.”

That makes Zal arch her eyebrow at first, before she straightens her back, narrows her eyes and smirks.  
“…excuse me? My stature?”

Jaesa coughs somewhat awkwardly, looking away.  
“Well, erm…you are so…majestic in every way.”

Slightly behind her, Vette displays the same expression as Zal.  
“She means that you’re big, muscular, and look like you can break someone’s leg by staring at them too hard.”

Not exactly what Jaesa had intended, but Vette enjoys being blunt. While the former apprentice sighs, Zal starts to laugh instead.  
“Probably true”, she admits, before she runs a hand through Jaesa’s hair and then caresses her cheek.  
“You are important to me, Jaesa, no matter if you are my apprentice or not. I want you to do well, but I understand that it cannot be under my strict supervision. I can’t watch you at all times, because it wouldn’t be fair nor reasonable. I shall instead believe in your prowess and capabilities. I am sure you will make me proud.”

The smile Jaesa offers her now is bright, and she inclines her head in respect.  
“Thank you, master. I appreciate your support.”

“Well…”, they hear Vette saying, “I wouldn’t really mind a little bit of physical support too. It’d be kinda nice to actually see you beat a few of the assholes belonging to that Sphere.”

Jaesa rolls her eyes.  
“How would that help? It would just make them angry.”

“Hmm, true. But, what if she just punches them a little bit, to soften them up?”

Taking a step back, Jaesa wraps an arm around her shoulders.  
“Sometimes, I’m quite glad that you are not Sith, Vette.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Jaesa was elevated to the rank of a Lord back in[chapter 43](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386703/chapters/24863037) of The precipice of division, for anyone confused at this development._


	10. Chasing glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, I decided to do a followup to that chapter with Cierah and Jovana meeting Mandalore this week. There won't be a third part, but I wanted to conclude this encounter, at least._   
>  _This chapter also contains a bunch of mandalorians from "The precipice of division", plus Mako and Raina._

The undergrowth of the forest rustles somewhat due to the gentle breeze that manages to slip past the otherwise rather thick upper vegetation. Only the slightest of sunrays can penetrate this area, which otherwise remains still and undisturbed. In the distance, the questioning shout of some kind of animal reaches the ears of nearby creatures, likely signaling or otherwise calling for its peers. There’s no response, but also no signs of alarm that follows. Everything stays virtually motionless, calm and woefully unaware.

Pushing through the thick green, blue, red and yellow surroundings comes a group of humanoids, slightly more than a dozen, which has mostly attempted to camouflage themselves in order to blend in, hoping to remain undiscovered until it is already too late for their prey. The majority of the group walks together at the front, but there’s also a few that lag behind, potentially for scouting purposes, but there’s a certain tension which could indicate otherwise.

After a few hours of walking and occasionally running, they find the first piece of their prize for this entire endeavor, which appears to be some kind of rather fast furry creature with horns. It’s not a predator, but certainly one that could normally defend itself. Unfortunately for it, the evolutionary process has not prepared it for blasters.  
One from the group raises his arm and signals for the rest to take a step back as he sneaks forward alone, checking his rifle, and prepares himself both physically and mentally. There’s no scope or sight attached to his gun, as he wants to do this without assistance. Taking a few deep breaths, he waits until the right moment, and then unleashes his shot.

It’s quick, clean and precise, taking out the creature pretty much immediately. The group sees no reason to stay silent after that, and therefore erupt in cheers, saying a few words in mando’a. Several of the team walks up to the dark-green scaled trandoshan as he rises with a smile, patting his shoulders and back. The majority of them step aside as Artus Lok himself approaches his companion and does the very same thing, watching his clan member with a satisfied gaze.

“Looks like the honor of both first blood and first kill goes to Neeraka. You should proud.”

A few meters behind stands a fair-skinned human with short black hair, who crosses his arms and smirks.  
“Tsk, not like any of us believed differently, right? He’s always quick when it comes to getting the first shot.”

Neeraka looks back at his friend and returns a similar expression.  
“Don’t worry, Tendarr, one day you might reach my level. Or at least the level I was at around ten years ago.”

Some of the others start to chuckle at the jesting remark, as does Tendarr himself. He also takes the opportunity to glance at the human next to him.  
“Maybe the Grand Champion should show us how to do this properly, though.”

Jovana is standing among this group, but somewhat in the rear, not currently having any weapons drawn. She merely smiles and shrugs.  
“Eh, I’ll leave this kind of hunt to you guys. It’s not as fun when the prey can’t shoot back.”

That makes most of the group laugh as well, as they know what she is famous for. Artus, however, seems to have his attention elsewhere, and he glances over his shoulder.  
“Hope the Empire isn’t falling behind too much, though. Would be as shame if they missed out on all the fun”, he says with a raised voice, making some of the others in the front group look in the same direction.

Further behind, in the second section of the team, walks a few other individuals, which includes two humans, a bird and a droid. One of the humans have rather pale skin, while the other has dark brown, both of them wearing light armor of the mandalorian kind.  
Cierah practically glares at him, although it’s hard to say if it’s due to the comment or something else.  
“Don’t worry about us”, she says not all too loudly. “We will find a way.”

“Better make it soon. Don’t want to disappoint me, do ya?”

“Of course not, Lord Mandalore, but there is still time.”

Artus says no more and instead continues to walk, with most of his comrades following him, as they proceed through the woods.  
Two from this group do not, as Jovana and her friend decides to approach her girlfriend, to see how she’s doing. Before she manages to speak, however, her comrade interjects, by first directing herself towards the woman that Cierah brought with her.

“Hey there, Raina.”

“Hello Mako.”

“How’s it going? Getting any good views out here?”

Raina smiles at the slightly shorter woman and nods briefly.  
“It is a fascinating place, I will admit. I’m not quite used to this type of thick wilderness, but it is somewhat reminiscent of Dromund Kaas.”

The slicer smirks and puts a hand towards her own hip.  
“Hah, yeah, a little bit, I guess. Much less lightning, though, right?”

“True, but there’s no lack of beasts here, which is fairly similar to the experience of our capital world.”

Both of their slightly older companions watch the duo carefully. Jov and Cierah know that these two have been spending an increasing amount of time speaking to each other. While Jov is fine with that, Cierah is somewhat more hesitant. Mako and Raina are sort of like their little sisters in a way, and yet they don’t treat each other like family, but in a more…intimate fashion. Jov gets the sense that her girlfriend doesn’t entirely approve of it, likely due to being protective. For now, though, there are other concerns.

“Doing alright, babe?”

Cierah sighs as Jov falls in next to them, and she rolls her shoulders somewhat, a frown forming on her face.  
“This armor is…strange. It’s not very efficient. You said it would be comfortable, but I disagree.”

Turning her gaze downwards, Jov surveys the black and white gear that Cierah agreed to wear. Artus said they’re only doing this if all members of the hunting squad – organic ones, anyway – wear mandalorian armor. Jov suggested something heavier, but the agent didn’t like that. Would apparently slow her down too much.  
“It’s supposed to be better at taking damage, though. You know, in case we face any predators out here.”

“I know, but I would prefer something even lighter for better movement. My lethality is dependent on my speed.”

“Really? I thought it was all about aim for you. Haven’t seen you run and snipe very often.”

Cierah frowns somewhat at the smug tone and expression of her girlfriend, but eventually gives in.  
“Ugh, fine. I suppose I will endure it.”

Jov smirks and bumps her shoulder gently into Cierah’s.  
“Besides, you don’t need to worry. You look gorgeous in that thing, so who cares about a little extra weight?”

Of course she’d say that. In fact, she has already expressed similar opinions a few times by now. It makes Cierah roll her eye.  
“That’s all you ever care about.”

“So you’re saying you don’t like to hear how hot I think my girlfriend is?”

Despite her groans and protests, Jov knows her far too well.  
“…no comment.”

It’s not only Raina who’s with Cierah, though, but also a more synthetic companion, who decides to speak his mind now as well.  
“Subjective statement: Master, I must admit that I find this entire endeavor rather uninspiring. There are many other ways to hunt, with far more efficiency.”

Jov looks over at HK-51, who’s walking on the other side of Cierah.  
“What, and you could do this so much better than us?”

The droid gradually spins his head in her direction, his glowing yellowing eyes looking at her.  
“Confirmation: Certainly. If my master prefers, I would be more than happy to increase my speed and demonstrate this capability. I’m confident that I could sweep the entire forest of these unintelligent undesirables, before your kind has any chance to counteract me.”

Obviously, Jov doesn’t agree, which is why she merely shakes her head. Next to her, Cierah exhales as well.  
“Sorry, HK, but we unfortunately can’t act too hastily. We need to be cordial with these people, so that we don’t lose their favor. They are our allies, after all, and we may need them to be more than that.”

It’s hard to say if HK is entirely disappointed based on his face, as he doesn’t really have an expression, but there may be some minor signs of that in his voice.  
“Acknowledgement: If that is what you prefer, I shall attempt to suppress any such actions.  
Suggestion: I do believe it would be preferable for the entire team if you make use of my abilities in some better way than simply walking, however.”

Cierah ponders his proposition for only a few moments, before she inclines her head.  
“Agreed. You should go ahead and try to scout the area, if you feel restless. However, remember to not make all too much noise. You cannot scare away the prey these people are chasing.”

“Appeasement: Don’t worry, master, stealth and silence were imprinted into my core programming. There will not be a single organic creature in the vicinity that shall notice my advancement. You will be quite impressed, I’m sure.”

After he disappears through the darkness of the woods, Jov’s gaze follows him rather skeptically, before she looks at Cierah again.  
“This new droid you have is very uh…interesting, I guess, but also really weird. You usually attract that type of people, though.”

Cierah gives her girlfriend an amused glance, before she raises a hand to playfully poke Jov’s nose.  
“I know.”

“…hey, I wasn’t talking about-“

“Nevertheless”, she interrupts Jov, “he may be strange, but also useful. If you had to make a choice, though, which would you prefer – Menace or HK?”

On the opposite side of Cierah, on her left shoulder, sits the grey-feathered Halcyon crown owl with large bright orange eyes, which Cierah aptly named ‘Cipher’s Menace’. When the mandalorian looks at him, he glares back at her. They have not had the best of interactions so far, which is why she grimaces. At least the agent has told him to keep his distance this time.  
“Ugh, tough call. The creepy droid or the furious bird. Well, guess HK isn’t rude all the damn time.”

Cierah arches her brow.  
“Menace isn’t rude.”

“Not with words, no, but with his beak. He’s a bite-happy little shit.”

“It’s not personal”, Raina tells her, while smiling at the couple. “Menace unfortunately deals with most people that way. He doesn’t get along with the majority of our crew. He even tried to bite Scorpio once, before she chased him away. The only one who stands a chance is Doctor Lokin.”

For some reason, Mako starts to smirk.  
“Hey, that sounds like Skadge, but with less guns.”

Jov folds her arms.  
“Well, at least that guy shuts up when I tell him.”

“Does he?”

Seeing as how they now have the duo here, Cierah looks at Mako instead.  
“Mako, you spend a lot of time with Jovana, and presumably with her clan. Do you enjoy being around mandalorians this much? You’re not even part of the clan yet, are you?”

Mako briefly shakes her head.  
“I’m not, and I don’t plan to be. Their style isn’t really for me, to be honest. They’re nice enough, though, I guess. Most of ‘em can be tough to deal with on a regular basis, but you mostly just need to know what to say and how to act.”  
She returns Cierah’s gaze now as well.  
“Then again, I also don’t have a lot of history with the Empire, definitely not Intelligence. Since I’m close friends with Jovana, they respect me.”

This is not something that any of them can dispute, of course, and Cierah has been rather thankful that Mako has been at Jov’s side. The young slicer is intelligent, creative and protective, meaning she sometimes stops the mandalorian from doing something particularly foolhardy.  
“True enough. Any advice in this situation, one outsider to another?”

Mako offers her a small but somewhat apologetic smile.  
“Sorry, nothing specific. All I can really say is, try to show your prowess – what you’re especially good at – and be honest. Mandalore respects the latter.”

After a heavy sigh, it’s Cierah’s turn to cross her arms.  
“I was afraid you’d say that. I’m not really used to such behavior.”

“I don’t know if I agree, sir”, Raina tells her. “You may have manipulated a lot of people in the past, but I’m sure you can be honest when you want to be.”

“You know that’s not entirely true.”

“Do I? You are always honest with me, sir.”

That makes her hesitate and she shares a glance with her protégé, of a softer nature.  
“You…you are special, Raina. That’s not a fair comparison.”

While they’re standing there talking to each other, generally seeming to have a better time than before, another member of the group at the front approaches them. This one is in Mako’s height, but she’s clearly not human. She may have short brown hair, but her light green skin and striped black square tattoos over her cheeks, forehead and chin, marks her as having quite a different origin, even if she belongs to the same clan as the rest of the people here.  
The mirialan stops not too far from them and tries to get in next to Jov. Before she does, she also sends Cierah a skeptical look.

“Champion, are things alright back here? Don’t want you to fall behind too much.”

Jov smiles at the young woman.  
“Ah, it’s alright, Vyrix. Cierah is just having a bit of difficulty adjusting to this type of thing. She never really grew up with much hunting.”

Cierah snorts.  
“Neither did you, I might add.”

“Pff. Yeah, okay, but the streets of Nar Shaddaa can be just as dangerous, you know. It has all the same qualities; gotta know how to move, where to go, be cautious and always keep an eye open.”

“But instead of predators, you had slimy hutts and their lackeys.”

Jov winks at her.  
“Exactly.”

While it seems to amuse Jov, Vyrix does not become any more encouraged.  
“Well, few adapt very quickly to this lifestyle, which is why it’s difficult to join us. Maybe she should try to get used to it, though, if she actually plans to succeed here.”

The tone she uses isn’t necessarily hostile, but there’s definitely some type of challenge hiding underneath. She’s not even looking at Cierah when she says this, but it’s clear to everyone who she’s really addressing.  
“Uh, okay. What do you mean by that?” Jov asks somewhat tentatively.

Vyrix doesn’t respond, but the agent doesn’t feel that she has to either.  
“No need to be concerned, miss”, Cierah tells her. “I can keep up. I may not be a hunter, but I don’t tire easily.”

Finally, the mirialan faces her directly, giving her quite a fierce stare.  
“I hope you’re right. Mandalore can get very impatient with those who prove not to be worthy of his attention.”  
Almost immediately after, her expression changes to a smile as she looks at Jov.  
“Oh, and if you have time later, Champion, I would love it if you’d join me for a special hunt. Mandalore said there’s a type of prey that he thinks I’d enjoy pursuing, which could help me prove myself to the clan even further. Your company would be very appreciated.”

After she had just been so harsh with Jov’s girlfriend, the human isn’t entirely certain, but she tries to remain friendly.  
“Ah, okay. Well, I’ll think about it.”

“Good! I look forward to your decision.”  
She also faces Mako, giving her a similar expression.  
“Oh, and Mako, come by our camp when we’re done here. I finished that slicing challenge you gave me. I want to show you my results.”

Mako smirks and nods at her.  
“Sounds good to me. I definitely wanna see if you’ve improved.”

Vyrix winks at her and then initiates her jetpack, to catch up with Artus’ group. After she has left, Jov glances at her friend.  
“Hanging out with members of my clan, huh?”

“Yeah, why not? Vyrix is cute and funny. I like her.”

At the same time, Jov also feels someone tapping on her shoulder, with Cierah now facing her.  
“Vyrix? Who is she?”

Jov displays a small smile.  
“Ah, just another Lok warrior. For the last several months, we’ve grown rather…close, I guess.”

Cierah raises a doubtful eyebrow.  
“Close?”

“Well, she looks up to me, kinda. She’s a bit like Mako, a sort of little sister type.”

As she clearly hears this, Mako frowns and folds her arms.  
“…hey, champ, I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not!”

Jov smirks.  
“Am I wrong?”

“…no, but you didn’t have to say it like that! It’s embarrassing.”

The champion chuckles and runs a hand through Mako’s hair to ruffle it.  
“Well, luckily, making you blush is one of my favorite activities, _kid_.”

Mako pushes her hand away and pouts.  
“I’m not a kid anymore!”

While they play around, Cierah directs her eye towards the group at the front, especially Vyrix and her appearance turns distant. Raina is the one to notice this, of course.  
“What’s wrong, sir?”

“Nothing in particular”, Cierah responds. “I’m just sensing that this is not going to be an easy trip anymore.”

“Why would you say that?”

The agent releases a quick sigh and shakes her head.  
“Because I’m fairly certain this Vyrix does not like me.”

Jov overhears those words, and swirls back to her girlfriend.  
“Wait, what makes you think she doesn’t?”

“Did you not see her eyes, that glint in them? They were practically oozing with distaste.”

While she’d like to deny this claim, Jov finds it difficult to do so with honesty. Instead, she raises a hand to scratch at her neck.  
“Well, uh, I don’t think you should take it personally. She’s probably just skeptical of outsiders.”

“Hmm, are you sure? I haven’t seen her give anyone else such a glare.”

Another claim that she finds difficult to contradict, due to the fact that Vyrix hasn’t been mean towards anyone. Not that she was all too bad with Cierah, but definitely flippant.  
Either way, Mako seems amused once more.  
“Hah, so she’s jealous of Cierah? Well, guess that’s not surprising. Bet lots of people think like that when she’s got you.”

Jov attempts to wave her hand dismissively, but her expression doesn’t seem as confident in it.  
“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad. I’m sure you’re all exaggerating. Vyrix is just…uh, protective, I guess.”

“We shall see, I suppose”, Cierah acknowledges. “But I remain skeptical of it. To me, that look did not provide any other impressions.”

The hunt continues for a while longer, as one piece of prey is clearly not enough, especially since their ‘guests’ haven’t taken anything down.  
A while later, after the second kill occurs, Artus stops his team and decides to approach the ones in the back, now that Jov and Mako have stayed among them. It appears that he doesn’t go alone, as Vyrix follows him.

“I think it’s time that we have a little chat, agent”, Artus tells her, a sharp look in his eyes. “If you’re really here to negotiate for the Empire, do you think that can be done by slacking in the rear? I didn’t ask you to come here so that you could be lazy.”

Cierah tries her best not to roll her eye, even if it’s really tempting. It’s not just for her own benefit, but because she knows Jov would want the two of them to have a healthier connection. Even if it seems like Artus is judging her based on her imperial status, none of them believe it.  
“Well, technically, before I left, I was not told anything about a hunting session. I merely assumed that we would be talking or strategizing.”

Artus scoffs.  
“Perhaps you should’ve done a lot more research then, huh? I thought that’s what you intelligence types were best at.”

Before Cierah has a chance to offer a retort, Vyrix turns to look up at him.  
“I’ve been watching her, Mandalore, and I’m not even sure she can provide what you demand. Imperials rarely understand us, which is why I think it’s questionable that we work with them.”

Her words sound rather harsh once more, even to Artus, who seems to ponder them.  
“Hmm, not sure I entirely agree, Vyrix, but you do have a point. They gotta show us that they’re ready to struggle just fiercely as we are. Or else, why are we even fighting this war together?”

The way that they seem to talk to one another, while indirectly addressing Cierah, appears to irritate the agent, who clenches her fist. She narrows her eye and then raises a hand to the grip of her rifle, before she pulls it out.  
“You want me to take down a beast? Very well. Give me a minute.”

Artus’s lips curl somewhat, quickly growing amused by her sudden change.  
“Just a minute, huh? Gonna have to do something pretty damn impressive, if you intend to sway my opinion, agent.”

“As you desire, Lord Mandalore.”  
Initiating the rocket boots that she was granted by the mandalorians, Cierah flies ahead of the rest, even the initial group, so that she stands alone. They follow her, as she approaches what appears to be a large clearing ahead. Along the way, she activates her comm unit.  
“HK?”

It only takes a second before the droid’s voice is heard inside of her ear implant.  
“Response: Yes, master?”

“Do you have eyes on anything of interest? I need to get ahold of some useful prey, and soon.”

“Affirmation: I do indeed, master. There’s a particularly large and quick organic creature not too far from my position.”

She doesn’t need to move her hands in order to activate even more internal processes.  
“Show me.”

Shortly after she attained the droid, she and Lokin made some modifications to HK-51, with the droid’s permission, so that the two of them could better be connected. If they are within a few miles of one another, they can both initiate a process that lends each other the sight from their eyes. Or eye, in Cierah’s case, as it only works on the cybernetic one.  
As it happens now, her left eye is granted HK’s vision, seeing a big and somewhat scaly creature, with long legs, horns and at least four eyes. She has never seen anything like that before, but it is interesting.

“Query: Would this suffice, master?”

“Perfect. You are nearby?”

“Explanation: According to my readings, our locations should be within a reasonable range.  
Suggestion: Do you wish me to neutralize it for you?"

Cierah resists the impulse to shake her head, as she doesn’t want anyone to know what she’s doing.  
“No, I want eyes on that thing. You see the clearing close to my position? Chase it here, and I will deal with the rest.”

“Confirmation: As you desire, master.”

She glances over her shoulder and gives the rest of the group a stern look.  
“Follow me. I know where we’re going.”

With a quick wave of her hand, she also displays for her other companion to move, and Menace takes off for the skies, flying past the trees and rises up into the air. When he arrives in the large clearing, almost like a small valley, he catches up with the same prey that he apparently knows his human friend is after. The owl is well aware of his role, that he’s meant to better mark the location of the prey, so that Cierah doesn’t need to use her scope for it.  
Eventually, she stops, signaling the rest to do the same, while she follows Menace’s movements in the air. It appears he has found it, and she raises her gun.

Several hundred meters away, they see the scaly predator running, incredibly fast as well. It seems like it’s trying to get away from something, and moves with such agility that it’s almost impossible to follow.  
“Whoa now,” says Artus. “That’s a wild one. Not sure we can take it down with our blasters from this distance.”

“Allow me”, Cierah tells him with confidence.

Even if Menace can’t touch it, he doesn’t really try to either. Instead, he occasionally dives down, in order to scare the animal and prevents it from fleeing the area. It is about to do so anyway, but it stays inside for now, somewhat spooked by the angry owl after having been chased by the scary droid earlier too.  
It’s almost out of the clearing at this point, with Cierah still trying to aim and wait for the right opportunity.

Vyrix frowns and folds her arms.  
“She’s not going to get it at this rate. There’s no good angle. It’ll escape.”

Fortunately, the young woman underestimates her and with one precise shot of her sniper – without the scope or her cyber eye – she avoids all of the trees in her path and hits the animal right in its back. It tumbles to the ground almost immediately.  
The mandalorians end up in a bit of silent astonishment for several seconds, before Artus furrows his brow and starts to move. The rest follow him, as they approach the prey. Once they arrive, they get confirmation – her shot dug through its entire body, leaving it dead almost before it hit the ground.

Cierah stands a few meters away and rests her gun on her shoulder.  
“Satisfied, my lord?”

Jov is standing next to Mandalore and looks proud, while Mandalore actually nods appreciatively.  
“Not bad, not bad. Think few people could’ve made a shot like that, even with your bird flying around it. Maybe you imps have a bit of fire in ya, after all. One or two more of those and we might have a deal.”

Neeraka and a few of the mandalorians pats her shoulders and back, apparently giving her the acceptance of the group properly now, although Vyrix still seems too grumpy for it.  
When they’re all gone, Jov approaches her with a grin and a wink, as she slips an arm around her waist. After a fierce kiss, she whispers to her.  
“That was hot, by the way.”

It doesn’t seem like Cierah can hide the faint smile on her own lips very well either, as she strokes a hand over Jov’s cheek.  
“You’re welcome.”


	11. To rise anew

Due to some rather hectic weeks following the attack on Kaas City, and many other parts of the Empire, Ashara has not really had the possibility to spend much time inside the Imperial Citadel. With her master now practically ruling the planet, in order to maintain some kind of stability, Ash does everything she can to aid these efforts. Parts of it is obviously to make sure that nothing goes wrong, as she wants to help people, but it cannot be denied that she knows how beneficial it must be that many citizens see an alien aiding them. If she wants to change people’s hearts, she must be there for them.

Now that she finally enters the Citadel once more and wanders through the halls of the headquarters for the Sphere she belongs to, she is greeted by a few people along the way, most of them being Valcera’s subordinates. She is glad that so many here have accepted her and treat her with respect, which is why she offers the same behavior in return.  
What she had not expected during this stroll, however, is the person she runs into close to the corridors of Val’s lower chambers.

“Xalek?”, Ash asks as she spots him walking towards the same destination. “What are you doing here?”

In the last several months, the relationship between these two have calmed somewhat, something that has been influenced and encouraged mostly by their master. Ash did her best to be more cordial, though, and to her surprise, Xalek has been able to show the same courtesy.  
That said, it’s difficult to claim that they’re friends. Xalek is still quite a harsh and stoic person, and they don’t share a lot of interests. Better to have him as an ally than an enemy, though.

“I am going to master Valcera’s chamber.”

Ash slightly arches one of her eyebrows.  
“You too? She called for you?”

He nods curtly.  
“She did. She never mentioned you, however.”

“Yeah, same here. She told me to meet her in the lower artifact repository, but said nothing about whether you would be here or not.”  
Remembering a similar event in the past, with her and Bejarah, Ash suddenly seems suspicious.  
“Maybe that was on purpose.”

Xalek tilts his head curiously.  
“So that we would not suspect anything?”

“Possibly. I’m still not sure why, though. Let’s hope it’s for a positive thing.”

As they proceed towards the elevator together, Ash lets Xalek push the button for the correct floor.  
“She would not pit us against each other. That is not her style.”

“Agreed”, she says, before giving him a contemplative look. “She doesn’t want for us to fight.”

Xalek returns her gaze with those calm and yet fairly piercing eyes, ones that Ash had felt were unnerving for the first months spent together, but now have at least become an aspect she simply accepts as normal.  
“Master has said it is unwise, yes.”

“And I agree with her. Don’t you?”

“I have come to realize that she is rarely wrong.”

Not a straightforward answer, but perhaps it’s the best that Ash can ask for. It’s better than outright hostility, which was sort of what existed earlier.  
Once they arrive at the correct floor and stride towards the entrance, they are met by an even more surprising sight inside. A whole bunch of people are gathered here and while both of them recognize each one, it’s not the type of company they had expected.

On the platform in the center, surrounded by various items and equipment that Val has stored here, they can see Francine, Simiris, Khem, Talos, Andronikos, Bejarah and Lana all gathered around the same place. The only one that cannot currently be seen is Val herself.  
Compared to the duo, some of these people are also dressed up; not necessarily in their finest outfits, but definitely more ceremonial than they are on their everyday activities.

The first one that they encounter is Talos, standing there in a special dark grey and red uniform with the Captain’s emblem worn over his chest.  
“Ah, there you are! We speculated whether you would arrive in time or not. It’s good to see that you both followed the proper instructions. Excellent show of unity.”

Ash looks hesitant and strokes one of her lekkus somewhat uncertainly.  
“Uh, it wasn’t really planned, but thanks.”

Not too far from this location, Andronikos stands dressed in a crimson-colored suit with some silver patterns over it, a black tie with golden pins and some brown highly polished shoes. At the same time, he eyes the regular robes that Xalek and Ash comes walking in.  
“You know, I was kinda aware that the two of you would just look the same way as you always do, but I still feel really overdressed.”

“Well, I am not sure what we’re even doing here, so I can’t tell if you are”, Ash admits. “It is a fine outfit, though.”

“Heh, thanks. Cost me quite a bit too, so I’m probably gonna be saving this for every ‘special occasion’ that I have in the future.”

The apprentices continue further in, and meet even more people, with the next one being Khem, who gives them only a brief nod and a few words.  
“Don’t disappoint.”

Ash glances at Xalek, who slowly shakes his head at her as well.  
“Don’t disappoint with what?”, she asks Khem. “No one has told us why we were sent here, but it seems like the rest of you know.”

“They were probably told to stay quiet”, Xalek agrees.

It’s not like they expected anything more from Khem, but he somehow seems pleased that he is more aware of the truth than they are.  
“Don’t.”

Except for Talos, the one who’s most excited is Francine, who eagerly waves at them as they approach the center of the platform, where she is standing next to Simiris.  
“Ash! Xalek! It’s good to see you two! Isn’t this kind of exciting?”

She quickly takes one of Ash’s hands as the apprentice comes to their position. Francine is apparently wearing her finest uniform, in black and dark blue, while Sim is dressed more as a civilian. The cyborg has a fine bronze-colored coat as a top, which is left open to reveal the navy-blue shirt beneath, and a longer skirt below in black with painted spirals in shades of amber. Her neck has a white and red stripped scarf around it and while her black hair is usually held up in some way, today it’s hanging loosely over her left shoulder. The slim cybernetic implants covering both eyes are active as usual, though.

“I…suppose it is. You seem to think so, at least”, Ash tells her. “Xalek and I are still confused.”

Francine chuckles.  
“Don’t worry, everything will be revealed soon enough.”

“Are the two of you alright? Simiris looks…hesitant.”

The corporate woman sighs and folds her arms.  
“This outfit is…excessive. Francine chose it for me and I am still unsure if I feel comfortable with it.”

After stepping back and joining her girlfriend, Francine takes Sim’s hand and smiles at her with one of her brightest and most charming expressions.  
“Oh, come now, don’t say that! You look absolutely amazing. There’s nothing unnecessary with it at all.”

“I don’t wear skirts. Usually, anyway.”

“And yet you are now.”

Turning her head towards the assistant, Sim seems to stare silently at Francine for a couple of moments, before she sighs.  
“Only because you insisted.”

To somehow placate her, Francine leans close and kisses her cheek softly.  
“Then I’m grateful and obviously very pleased. I think it’s a fantastic look.”

Ash is happy to see them like this, but she also can’t deny the jealousy she feels over their intimate opportunity. Luckily, that doesn’t last for long, as someone comes walking past them from another angle.  
Approaching from the far side of the room, Bejarah has chosen a somewhat more radiant outfit than the rest of the team, with a sleeveless dress in bright orange, almost yellow, infused with patterns of white and dark blue. The rattataki stops not too far from Ash, but holds back on any overly intimate notions for now. At most, she smirks and runs a few fingers down Ash’s lekku, eliciting quite pleasant shivers through the apprentice’s body.

“Hey babe, been waiting for ya. Was wondering how long you’d actually take to get here.”

Ash reaches out with her hand, seizing one of Beja’s, so that she can caress it in a slow and gentle manner.  
“Waiting? And yet you did not enlighten me that you would be coming here.”

“Mm, sorry, Val’s orders. Her instructions were very strict, saying we can’t inform you of what will happen.”

Ash sighs and shakes her head.  
“So, this means you won’t be telling me what’s going on either?”

Beja’s amused expression grows even further, and she leans closer, lifting one of her hands to stroke a thumb slowly over Ash’s lips.  
“Little bit impatient, huh? And why would I spoil all the fun? Just wait and see. This will be…enjoyable, I bet.”

“I just…I feel as if I’ve walked into something…bizarre. It’s not someone’s birthday, is it? I am sure it isn’t master Valcera’s.”

“Heh, yeah, not sure even Val knows about the exact date for her own.”

The last person in the room approaches them, and compared to most of the others, she is not in anything unusually over-the-top. They see the black and green uniform, along with the cape swaying behind her, as she stops not too far away.  
“Both of you can relax”, Lana tells them. “There is nothing to worry about. Val would never have arranged this if she did not feel it was necessary.”

“If it was necessary, should we not at least have been warned?”, Xalek asks.  
“Most are in special outfits. We are wearing our robes.”

Lana eyes both of them with her arms crossed, and a faint smile appears on her lips before she shrugs.  
“I actually think it’s quite appropriate. Trust me, everything is fine.”  
Shortly after, she seems to sense something through the Force and she glances over her shoulder, towards the doors.  
“Ah, and here she comes now.”

Just like expected, the doors on the opposite end slides open and everyone else chooses to step aside, to give the duo some space, as Darth Imperius herself approaches. In a similar fashion as her apprentices, Valcera also wears her normal red, black and white robes, but she has dropped off the armor additions to wear something more ceremonial. She has a violet sash around her waist, a silver medallion hanging from her neck, and red gloves on her hands.  
The first few seconds after she enters, she smiles at both of them, but her stance quickly changes into a more formal nature, like she’s trying to fill the air around her with the same serious attitude.

Once she stops, she’s not too far from Lana’s position, but her attention is on her apprentices.  
“I am pleased to see that you both arrived at the appropriate time. You are often punctual, and in this occasion, it was rather important.”

Just like they have done several times today, Ash and Xalek shares a quick look, before they figure that they should probably play along.  
“Master, what is it you need of us?”, Ash inquiries.

“We eagerly await your command”, adds Xalek.

“Good, because today’s ceremony may be one of the most crucial events during your careers so far.”  
She takes the opportunity to slowly survey them, one at a time, and while she does it physically to begin with, they almost feel as if she uses the Force to surround them as well, sensing their mental states. Her expression becomes even more solemn afterwards.  
“Ashara Zavros, Xivhkalrainik – please, kneel.”

Not quite what they had expected to hear, as Val has never really told them to do anything like this in the past. That said, they still follow her command, getting down on one knee each, their hands dropped to the floor. As they assume this pose, the rest of the room grows completely silent, except for Val, who paces back and forth.  
“The two of you have served me well as my apprentices, with Ashara having been at my side for over two years, and Xivhkalrainik a few months less. It has been…an interesting time, I would say. During those years, I believe I can easily claim that we have all managed to grow together, to learn more of each other and your places here among the Sith.  
All of us share a system of beliefs, a certain set of principles, which define us and unite us. You have both shown eagerness to fulfill all of my orders and the activities I have assigned to you, which have been necessary to bring change to the Empire.”

She stops for a moment, looking down to the floor as she tries to find the words. They can’t be entirely certain of why, but there’s almost a tinge of sorrow in her, which reaches both of her apprentices through their shared bond.  
“However”, she continues, “it is no longer possible to say that you are mere students, as you have proven yourselves time and time again. During numerous missions and important events, you have succeeded both with your own actions, and displayed measures of leadership.  
For you, Ashara, that time was when you aided me with the crucial activities surrounding the mystery of the visions I received, where we searched for hidden clues regarding various ancient artifacts. Without you, I doubt I could have ever solved them. I thank you for showing such dedication.  
For you, Xivhkalrainik, a similar trial was when you accepted assignments to guard and aid my expeditions in many star systems across the Empire. Without you, I doubt some of them would have survived against the onslaught conducted by Malgus’ troops. It was a great victory and you should be pleased with your success.”

After she takes a slight break, both of her apprentices bow their heads even further.  
“All for you, master”, Xalek tells her.

“I have always been proud to serve”, Ash concurs.

Val’s face betrays her, displaying a small smile, before she puts it back down.  
“You have showed determination, courage, compassion and skills of leadership, for the benefit of the Empire and not just the Sith, which is exactly what I have taught you.  
For this very purpose, I have decided that you shall no longer remain as you were, but be elevated to another realm of our Order.”  
Finally being done with her pacing, she motions with one hand each towards her companions.  
“You kneeled as my apprentices, as students, but that time is over.” She slowly lifts her hands up.  
“Rise now and take your rightful places, as Lords of the Sith.”

Both of them widen their eyes in surprise, not having expected to hear these exact words, despite all the ceremony. Neither of them could’ve imagined this type of celebration when they awoke this morning, and as they both try to slowly stand up, there are so many emotions swirling through their minds. They are no longer apprentices, but actual Sith Lords now. That sensation is…almost overwhelming.

As the rest of the room begins to applaud, Val smiles and is the first to approach them both, wrapping her arms around their necks, to hug them tightly.  
“You have both done so well. I am proud of you”, she whispers.

After she steps back, she lets the rest of their friends envelop them in something similar.  
Francine is the first to smile brightly and throws her arms around Ash to embrace her.  
“I knew you could do it, Ash! I was so happy when lord Imperius told me!”

Simiris is not far behind her girlfriend and nods briefly.  
“Congratulations. You deserve it.”

On the other side, Andronikos smirks and pats Xalek’s shoulder.  
“You did good, kid. Had my doubts when you first joined us, but can’t deny you’ve grown now.”

Talos nods eagerly.  
“Indeed! I think you should both be proud of your accomplishments. During the time we’ve served together, there have been so many opportunities for us to achieve great things! I certainly hope we will see both of you in the Reclamation Service even more.”

Behind them, Khem stands with his arms folded and emits a grunting noise.  
“Good”, is all he says and it’s the only thing they get from him.

The duo is very appreciative of all the gestures and praise, but Ash is waiting for someone else, who soon comes to approach her. Beja pushes the others aside, and then wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s waist, pulling the togruta very close. The look on her face is exceedingly smug.  
“So, now you’re finally a proper Lord, huh? When are we gonna start building our powerbase, you think?”

Leaving her hands on top of Beja’s shoulders, Ash smiles at the ratttaki, while arching her eyebrow inquisitively.  
“We?”

“Yeah, you don’t think I’m going anywhere, do you? I’m gonna be with you against any obstacle or enemy, for as long as I’m welcome.”

Not a surprising offer, as the mercenary had made it clear how she felt already, but Ash appreciates hearing it nonetheless. She tilts her head forward, gently brushing her nose against the other woman’s.  
“Watch out. That might be quite a long time.”

“Guess it’s a good thing that I really enjoy it here then, huh?”

As they are already so close to one another, they choose to seal their affectionate gestures by locking their lips and letting a fierce kiss briefly take them away from reality. It’s not like they need to hide it in this company anyhow, as most of their friends are aware of this relationship. For some of the old crew, it’s actually quite pleasant to see Ash accepting some of her emotions and finding some happiness in between the uncertainty of life.

In the meantime, in the back of the room, Val stands next to Lana and watches both of her apprentices, seeming contemplative. Lana senses many emotions erupting within her beloved, ranging from elation and pride, to sorrow and doubt. Perhaps it’s best to inquire, rather than try to dig for the truth.  
“How are you feeling?”, she asks quietly.

Val takes a deep breath and then grabs Lana’s hand when it’s offered.  
“I…don’t know. I suppose I’m satisfied with the conclusion for the most part, even if it feels sad too.”

Lana tilts her head, while blinking confusedly.  
“Sad?”

“Mm. You know, it’s…the end of an era. A brief one, perhaps, but still. They’ll never be my apprentices again.”

Even if she understands, Lana still looks rather amused. She can’t help but feel that Val is quite adorable when she gets this sentimental. Will this also be the case if they ever have children together?  
Lana leans closer to kiss the Councilor’s cheek.  
“They’re not going away, you know. They will continue to work for you.”

Val sighs and closes her eyes. Now that she won’t have to be so formal, she decides to rest herself against Lana.  
“I know, but I still worry, especially about Xalek.  
I am skeptical if it was the right choice to promote him, as there are some lessons I never had the chance to teach him. Strength isn’t everything, after all.”

Wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, Lana strokes one hand through Val’s hair, resting her chin on top of the other woman’s head.  
“If that’s the case, why did you offer him the same rank?”

“Because I have to. I want to promote equality between them, and Xalek hasn’t performed poorly. I do not wish them to think that I treat or care for them differently.  
While he has certainly been with me for several less months than Ash, he has showed that he’s capable, intelligent and decisive. He deserves recognition and there should be less potential rivalry this way.”

Lana considers what she’s being told, before she nods slowly.  
“Sounds reasonable, I think. I’m glad that you care so much for them and try to give them equal opportunities. I believe many other Sith can learn from you.”

Val snorts.  
“Well, obviously. That’s why I’m in the Dark Council.”

Having forgotten how Val would take such praise, Lana now starts to laugh.  
“And maybe you can learn something about humility from your former apprentices?”

Tilting her head upwards, Val narrows her eyes and grabs Lana’s chin, with a small smirk on her lips.  
“Nonsense. My confidence is one of my most attractive traits.”

“Hah, if you say so”, she manages to emit, before Val kisses her to shut her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Like I've mentioned before, I promoted Jaesa in a previous fic, but I was always going to get to Ashara (and Xalek) too._   
>  _Just Nadia left now, to reach Knight status, but it'll come. Eventually. Although as Iron isn't in this fic as much, that might occur behind the scenes._


	12. Sealed by trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter features my Jedi Consular, Iron'zeranz. Like it says[on my blog](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/talon-legacy.html), her first name isn't pronounced like the english word, but as "Eroon", or something similar to that. I believe it was in "Among the faded tales" that she mentioned how her name means "starfall", I think._

Neutral space. Lately, Ktila has been hanging around these types of systems a lot, to get some kind of breathing room and not constantly suffer the risk of being hounded by either the Republic or the Empire. She doesn’t think it’s particularly healthy to live under such conditions, to constantly wonder if someone is following you and if they aim to stop you somehow, but it’s not like she has much choice.  
In some ways, it does give her more respect for the agents of the SIS, and to a certain extent, the former Imperial Intelligence. It gives her an understanding for how how rough it must be to live through that type of paranoia.

Today, she and Kira are wandering through a space station in a system that at least the chiss has never been to previously, but which Kira – one of her closest friends and companions - has insisted will be a safe place where they can meet a particular person. From all Ktila has witnessed thus far, it hasn’t really given her any increased worrisome indications, because it does seem like a normal state-owned facility, belonging to one of the governments from this world, but there are still some uncertainties in the air.

Both of them walk around in fairly casual civilian clothes. Kira wears a navy-blue jacket, black pants and a white shirt, while Ktila has chosen a similar outfit, but in colors of violet, white and bronze. She also has a coat instead of a jacket and the addition of her grey shawl over her shoulders, given to her as a gift by her girlfriend, months ago.  
After a brief sweep of the area, Ktila looks at her companion and senses how her own impatience prods at her mind.

“Can’t you just tell me who we’re meeting already?”

The human glances towards Ktila, confronting her friend’s concerned expression with a simple smile.  
“Relax, okay? You’ve asked me twice already, and I told you to wait. Everything will be fine, I’ve got this.”

Ktila sighs and shakes her head.  
“…every time you say that, I get more worried.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?”

Quickly turning back to her friend again, she can see how Kira looks a little bit dissatisfied to hear Ktila’s blatant skepticism. Okay, maybe she shouldn’t be so open about it.  
She reaches out and gently caresses the Knight’s shoulder. Or former Knight, rather.  
“Kira, I…of course I do. There are few others I trust more than you. I’m just…tense, that’s all.”

Raising her hand, Kira envelops the one resting on her shoulder, stroking it softly. Their Force bond is strong, and has been for a few years now, but both of them cherish physical contact as well. It’s an important aspect of their relationship, one that they don’t quite know how to classify.  
“If you do, then you shouldn’t have to question me when I have a good suggestion. This person is an ally, I swear.”

After another brief exhale, Ktila looks ahead once more, but still keeps her hand on Kira.  
“Alright, I’ll try to calm down somehow. Maybe focus on something else.”

Something slightly mischievous appears in Kira’s eyes shortly after.  
“If you want, I could always call Zal. Maybe she can whisper something into your ear that might help you with the tension.”

Ktila slowly shifts back and gives her an unamused expression. Not wanting to look at Kira’s smug grin, she attempts to tickle her friend.  
“Watch yourself, or I might have to punish you. Like eating that slice of cake you were saving.”

Trying to squirm out of the hold, Kira giggles.  
“H-hey, not fair! Jaesa baked that one! You can’t just steal my gifts!”

“Sorry, that’s just the way of things when you try to mess with your boss. My ship, my rules.”

“Fine! You win. I’ll stop teasing…until I’ve rescued all of my stuff.”

Once they pass through most of the station and enter the sealed room that their contact had apparently arranged, Ktila’s mood suddenly switches quite quickly.  
When the doors open, she immediately widens her eyes as she spots a familiar individual. Medium brown skin, dark blonde hair in a ponytail, and robes in black, brown and white. The fear is confirmed by the purple piece of cloth which covers the region of her eyes, an area Ktila knows is empty below.  
How can she ever forget the sight of Master Iron’zeranz of the Jedi Council?

Ktila almost goes for the hidden lightsaber under her clothes, but instead seizes Kira’s shoulder and pulls her back.  
“…Kira, what the hell is this? Have you gone mad?”

Kira tries to struggle slightly against this gesture, gripping her friend’s hand once more and holds her ground.  
“Didn’t I tell you to relax? It’s not as bad as you think.”

For now, the miraluka merely stands by the far wall in the room, her arms neatly held together in front of her. As calm and unfazed as ever. She probably hopes to appear harmless, but Ktila knows that’s far from the truth.  
“Not as bad? Kira, she’s a member of the Council! If she called you here, you think it was just to have a chat?”

“Yes, it was, and she has reassured me that she only wants to talk. She spoke with her Padawan and asked her to reach out to me, probably because she knew you wouldn’t trust her word.”

Ktila is scowling at this time, and this notion increases once she sees how Iron approaches, with another person following from behind.  
“Your friend is correct, master Ktila”, she says in a serene voice, apparently having overheard. “I chose to speak with Kira, because I realized that she would be less suspicious of me, and my intentions.  
As she mentioned, I do not wish to fight, only converse. Please, come inside. This room has been secured and swept of any surveillance equipment. I promise it’s safe to talk in here.”

Despite every instinct in her body telling her to run right now, Ktila chooses to follow Kira into the room, but she still looks at Iron filled with skepticism.  
“You’ll have to forgive me when I say that I can’t fully believe you. This is a…highly suspicious place to meet.”

“I agree that it may be perceived that way, but I have no ill intentions. Search me through the Force, if you wish. I have opened any mental barriers, to make sure that no doubt can be aimed at me.”

It can’t be denied that Ktila doesn’t sense any deception in the air, but how can be she sure that’s the truth? Iron is a very talented Force user and it’s not entire impossible that she would be able to fake this action.  
“Did the Council send you here? Was it master Satele who put you up to it?”

“No, they are all unaware of my presence on this station. Not even the Grand Master knows.”

All this hostility apparently annoys the other person behind Iron, and Ktila suddenly sees how this woman hurries up to Kira. The white or grey hair, very pale skin, blue eyes and blue facial markings are all quite familiar, as Ktila has met this sarkhai before.  
Nadia grins and throws her arms around Kira to hug her, almost making the human fall.  
“Kira! It’s so good to see you again.”

Kira chuckles and pats Nadia’s head when she manages to remain standing.  
“What is it with you and intense hugs? You almost drop me to the floor every time.”

“The only way to hug is with everything you’ve got!”

The former Knight shakes her head amusedly and then glances at Ktila, who is arching her brow somewhat.  
“Didn’t I tell you? We’ve been friends for a while now.”

“I see", Ktila remarks dryly. "Friends or ‘friends’?”

Kira blinks to begin with, until she recognizes the angle. Now that would be quite an unfortunate implication.  
“…not like that! Just friends, I swear.”

Ktila folds her arms.  
“Hmm. I suppose you’re free to befriend whomever you want, but I think you might be a bit reckless with your acquaintances sometimes. This could’ve been dangerous.”

With a slight sigh, Nadia looks at her.  
“Hey, Kira is right, you know. You really should relax, master Ktila. I cherish my friendship with Kira and I would never try to trick her. It’s important to me that she’s safe.”

Kira smirks somewhat.  
“Yeah, besides, Nadia isn’t much of a ‘typical’ Jedi anyhow. She and Iron have more of a similar philosophy to ours.”

The sarkhai nods eagerly.  
“Exactly. I’ve known about Kira’s…relationships for quite a while and I’ve supported it ever since. It’s all due to what master Iron taught me, because she believes people should be free to seize their own path. This is why I knew she would never try to take you into custody on behalf of the Order.  
Besides, if she had attempted to do that to Kira, I wouldn’t have helped anyway. I don’t betray my friends.”

There’s a lot of skepticism flowing through Ktila and while she wants to trust them unconditionally, she has gone through too many difficult scenarios to act without caution.  
Then again, did these two not help them out during a critical mission months ago? Did Iron not offer words of approval regarding Zal? And then there’s also the fact that Ktila can indeed feel nothing else than honesty emanating from the pair, which is fairly difficult to replicate at this level. Perhaps it’s preferable to at least lower her guard for now. What does she have to lose?

“Okay, if you’re truly asking for nothing more than a conversation, I am willing to listen. I…do want to trust you, because I think you’re decent people, but it’s difficult to open up.  
Also, there’s no need to call me ‘master’ anymore. I am no longer a Jedi.”

“Thank you”, Iron tells her. “It means a lot that you are giving us this chance.  
As for your altered rank, I would just like to start by saying that I admire your decision to leave the Order and follow your principles. It was a very brave act, and the very reason for why I chose to support it when the Council discussions started."

Compared to their initial meeting on Corellia, Iron has indeed been fairly cordial with her ever since. They don’t speak often, but she has learned how the miraluka isn’t as zealous and unfair as she had initially believed. However, she doesn’t recall any support.  
“Wait, what? When did you do that?”

“Shortly after you left the Order. Your comrades – Doctor Kimble and Sergeant Rusk – came to the Council in order to explain the situation and what was done in an attempt to prevent your departure.”

A brief sigh leaves Ktila’s mouth and her eyes drift downwards. She recalls that day all too well.  
“I should’ve expected as much. They were pretty fierce in their opposition to it.”

“Indeed, as was their speech to us. I thought it was an interesting debate, especially since it taught me more of your character.  
I knew of your opposition and attack on the Emperor, but I did not realize quite how much it had affected you, nor how similar our opinions may be. Having tried to purge his corruption in the Republic previously, I acknowledged we were on a similar page regarding the dangers of his existence, but I did not expect you to be so dedicated to ending the last vestiges of his power.  
When your companions told me that they believed you might be the only person left in this galaxy that can truly challenge him, I understood that we may have to face the reality of our own mistakes and that you are the one that likely will be able to end him for good. This is why I told the other Councilors that I support your decision, as should everyone else.”

If she had felt astonished before, that is swiftly increasing now, as she watches Iron with interest.  
“Wow. I…I didn’t think you would understand so quickly or that you’d agree. I figured you would be the first to call for a hunt, but clearly, I was wrong.  
Thank you for backing me up. It’s…more than those two did.”

Iron inclines her head briefly and puts her hands behind her back.  
“True enough, but I could also see and feel from them that they still care for you, that they believe in your spirit.  
This also includes the Council. No matter how much they may have disagreed with your initial choice, a lot of them still worry for you and your path, especially Grand Master Shan. This goes beyond mere suspicion of the dark side.  
Even if she pretends only to care for the Order’s stability, I strongly believe that master Satele is attached to its members and that she feels guilty for driving you away. Perhaps it does not matter to you, but she doesn’t wish to be your enemy, Ktila.”

Ktila sighs, keeping her arms crossed over her chest as she angles herself to the side. Images of the time spent with Satele flashes through her mind. She can’t forget that she never felt anything but compassion and friendship in that direction.  
“I know, and…I never really meant to make her feel that way. I respect her, a lot, and I think she’s a good person. Meeting her for the first time was one of my better experiences on Tython, after being transferred from Corellia, and I do want to believe in her.  
I just…I wish she wouldn’t adhere so fiercely to the Jedi Code. There is more to the Force than strict rules. She is so stuck in the mindset of being a good Jedi, rather than doing what’s right. It’s admirable, but flawed. Well, in my opinion anyway.”

“I agree.”

Ktila looks up, but with a milder bit of surprise than previously. These two have had discussions of the Force in the past, and Iron has always been rather flexible.  
“You do?”

“Of course, but this shouldn’t come as a surprise; I have questioned the Order for a long time.  
Even when I was younger, on Alpheridies, I was unsure about the Order’s offer to join them. I told them that their views of the Force are too narrow, similar to the Luka Sene. My own people’s Force organization had offered me a place too, which I rejected, but I did acknowledge how they treat their members' lives with more respect. I have never agreed with the Jedi’s wish to control and regulate every Master, Knight, Padawan and Initiate’s personal affairs, an opinion which I have maintained in the Council. Sadly, I am often outvoted.”

Ktila runs a hand up to her chin in thought. The two of them have discussed Iron’s greyer views of the Force before, but not the Jedi’s actual rules of conduct.  
“Hmm, interesting. I guess you and I have more in common than I thought. The Green Jedi also don’t restrict their member’s lives as fiercely, which is why I was always more comfortable there.”

Iron remains introspective for a few moments as she reflects upon their statements.  
“It is amusing to consider that neither of us may have been perfect choices for this Order, and yet now we are both seen as ‘heroes’ for it.”

Despite her choice of words, her voice still sounds rather placid, although Ktila believes that is merely Iron's natural tone and not an active choice. Nevertheless, she sighs.  
“Yeah, you’ve got a point. Maybe we both should’ve thought more about what we actually wanted before we accepted their offers.”

“Perhaps, but even more than that, I believe it proves something very substantial – one does not have to be a ‘perfect Jedi’ to actual make a difference. We are evidence to the contrary, because neither of us follow the Code to the letter. That is something which the Order should have to face, don’t you agree?”

If she tries to put all of this into perspective, Ktila wonders if Iron is somehow trying to prove her friendliness, or that she can be trusted in some way. Some might say that’s manipulative, but Ktila actually kinda likes it. Perhaps this is her attempt of being friendly.  
Ktila chooses to offer Iron a smile.  
“You’re right again. After all this madness with the Emperor is over, I wouldn’t mind joining you if you prefer to confront the Council.”

“Thank you, I shall remember your offer in case that opportunity ever arises.  
To get back to the reason for our arrival, though, that is why I chose to reach out to you now. We want to help. Like I said before, fighting the Emperor is a concept that both Nadia and I are very familiar with.”

Nadia frowns.  
“Damn right. Those stupid Children of the Emperor used a Sith to kill my father and they themselves tried to threaten my people’s leaders. I know how treacherous they can be and the danger of the Emperor’s brainwashing.”  
She stops momentarily and looks regretfully at Kira.  
“Uh, n-no offense.”

Kira smirks at her and bumps her shoulder playfully into her friend.  
“Pff, none taken. I know you weren’t talking about me. I’ve already forgiven you both anyway.”

That seems to make the Padawan relax and she smiles again.  
“Good. Seriously, I think we made a bad decision with you, but the Children were still dangerous. There are a lot of unsolved mysteries in that mess.”

Iron continues to address Ktila.  
“The Order may not help you directly, but having a contact within it might still be beneficial, yes? I wish to be that contact. If there is anything you need, whether resources or information, you only have to send us a message and we shall find it for you.”

A very kind offer, of course, but Ktila feels reluctant.  
“That’s…more than I could’ve hoped for, but what about the others? Will they be okay with that?”

“I don’t care. Perhaps they will oppose me, perhaps they will not, but I will help you regardless.  
I obviously believe it would be wise to apply subtlety, but I will not be stopped.”

This notion is also something which Ktila senses through the Force. Iron is doing everything she can to seem open and friendly. Why would Ktila try to fight that?  
“Well, if you truly wish to risk your position and safety, we won’t insult you. I accept your offer.”

Both Kira and Nadia smile brightly as soon as they hear it, feeling elated and excited that they’ll somehow be working together, even if it’s from a distance.  
Iron bows her head respectfully.  
“Thank you, mas-…Ktila. I hope I will be a good asset in your hunt. The Emperor’s depravity and danger to this galaxy must be stopped, which is why I see it as one of the most critical tasks right now.”

Even Ktila seems to loosen up now and offers the Jedi Master a smile.  
“You are…not quite who I expected, master Iron, especially after our confrontation and all the stories about you. You’re a much better person and they don’t do you justice.”

“I feel the same about you. In the past, I believed you were rash and unpredictable, but such concepts were obviously unfairly bestowed upon you. Perhaps you make drastic decisions, but I sense they are much more calculated than anyone realizes, due to your bravery and honor. I believe you may be just what the Jedi needs.”

Feeling a little bit embarrassed, Ktila’s soft expression remains, but she also raises a hand to scratch her cheek somewhat.  
“Thanks. And…maybe they would work best when being tempered by your rationality and wisdom.”

Even if she rarely shows affection with most people, Iron steps forward and puts a hand on Ktila’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.  
“We have worked together before, but I hope this is the beginning of a true partnership. If you return to the Order at some point, I hope it will be to join the Council. You deserve that position.”

It’s clearly some sort of praise, which she appreciates, but Ktila can’t help her hesitation at this prospect.  
“Yeah, I think ‘if’ is the critical term in that sentence. Haven’t yet decided if I will.”

Iron is silent for a few moments before she responds again.  
“If you do not, what else would you do?”

“I’m…not sure. Think I’d have to evaluate my path at that point, consider every angle. Maybe there are other ways, outside of Jedi and Sith.”

“Hmm, certainly an intriguing concept. If you ever find a suitable answer, I would be very interested in hearing your conclusions.”

Ktila smiles and nods.  
“You’ll be the first to know. Well, maybe second, after a certain Sith acquaintance of mine."  
She glances between Iron and her companion.  
“You two should stay in touch, though. Wouldn’t mind if you and your cute Padawan visited us more often.”

When she hears it, Nadia smirks and puts her hands at her hips.  
“Excuse me? I’m not ‘cute’. I’m much more than that! Like…dangerous! Better not underestimate me.”

It doesn’t really help much when Kira suddenly smirks and playfully pokes her cheek.  
“Yeah, yeah, sure you are, shorty. As dangerous as a mouse.”

Nadia swats the hand away and pouts.  
“What?! Don’t mock me! I’m dead serious, I tell you!”

“Seriously cute, maybe.”


	13. House Nih'etat

It is with a sense of relief and joy that Lana walks into the living room of the apartment she has now been inhabiting for a few weeks and sits down on the large sofa. It’s not like this is a completely foreign sensation to her, as coming home from a long day at work has always been somewhat pleasant, but due to the changes in her life, that entire notion has changed. In spite of all the chaos around the galaxy right now, walking in through that door has become a more pleasant experience because of one woman.

In the past, Lana used to alternate between various activities, whether she wanted to actually use her free time for leisure and more creative choices, or just stick to doing more work. The latter is definitely not a healthy choice, but she often felt it was necessary, to stay ahead of the curve. Her superiors certainly appreciated it and that was reward enough.  
Now, though, when she actually lives in a home with someone she loves and cares for, that first option is so much more tempting. Spending time with Valcera every day – or at least most days – is a prospect that she has come to cherish and practically crave more and more.  
Unfortunately, life isn’t always simple.

After she has only been sitting down for a minute or two, to gather her thoughts, the same mirialan that was on Lana’s mind comes walking through another entrance into the area. Compared to Lana, who has just barely managed to remove some of her work outfit, Val is in a more comfortable set of violet robes, with a slightly lowered neckline. In her hand, she holds a datapad, and the look on her face is quite…curious, actually.

“Greetings, my Queen”, Lana starts somewhat teasingly, with a smile on her lips. “Had a good day?”

Despite the mildly playful offer, Val doesn’t quite return it, as she still watches the device in her hand.  
“Mm, in certain ways. I came home earlier, due to being away for most of the day. Another city to the east needed my input.”

“I see. Nothing you couldn’t handle, I’m sure.”

“True, but once I got back, I went home and dedicated some time to working upstairs.”  
She finally turns her eyes towards Lana and also shifts the datapad’s screen around.  
“That is when I stumbled upon a device of certain interest. Is this yours?”

Back at the office, she has a few different datapads for various purposes; most of them include storage of valuable information. However, at home, there’s only one or two and the advisor certainly recognizes this one, as she sits up.  
“Ah, yes, I believe it is. I may have left it there when I was checking something in your office. I hope that’s alright.”

Val inclines her head slightly.  
“Oh, I don’t mind you going in there. This is as much your home now as it is mine.”

Lana hesitates for a moment, as Val hasn’t relaxed yet. This isn’t just perceived physically, but through the bond they share in the Force.  
“Is there…something else that’s wrong?”

“Well, I suppose it depends on your response.”  
After sitting down on the sofa, right next to her girlfriend, Val clicks a few buttons on the datapad’s screen, getting to a specific section.  
“Here, do you see this? There are multiple entries with the word ‘Nih’etat’, which aren’t related to me. Why is that?”

Feelings of uncertainty and a bit of guilt suddenly descends upon her, and she looks unsure what to reply with. She can’t lie about this, can she?  
“I…yes, there are, although I had not expected for you to find them so soon. I suppose I should have been more careful about where I left these things.”

Val doesn’t usually view her girlfriend with any anger, but right now, she furrows her brow skeptically, being as serious as possible.  
“Have you been looking into my family, Lana?”

“…yes.”

“Why?”

Lana takes a deep breath. Why did she have to leave the datapad in there? She had to have figured that Val would utilize it at some point.  
The advisor shuts her eyes momentarily and shakes her head.  
“I’ve been doing some research.”

“On what?”

“I…wished to see if I could find some traces, so that I might track down your father’s location.”

Those words take Val straight from suspicion to shock in less than a second.  
“My…my father?”

“Yes”, Lana says and meets her eyes again. “I know life has been very tough for you as of late, dear. Even before Malgus attacked, we’ve been at war, and now after the latest chaos, you’ve been forced to take care of so many things here at the capital.  
I…thought I could do something nice for you, perhaps bring a bit of hope into your life. The first thing that popped into my head was to investigate your history and find out more of your family. It felt like a good starting point.”

Val looks down at the datapad with more interest, as she hasn’t yet searched much through it. She wanted to wait for Lana.  
“But…but how…?”

“I decided to contact a few individuals that I know have been interacting with the Republic, the Jedi and Imperial Intelligence. I spoke with people who were at the attack on Coruscant over a decade ago and might have retrieved certain files, making some deals with them so that I could acquire it.  
It’s been quite a difficult several weeks, but I have received some information which I found of interest. But…”, she stops to exhale, “…sadly, nothing on your father so far. The files you see in that datapad are from the latest batch I obtained.”

Val clicks through them, seeing long texts, a few images, the occasional official Republic document or report. It’s quite a lot of stuff, even if Lana is trying to downplay it.  
“When did you do this? At work?”

“Well, no. You already know that my assignment is very busy. I had to use parts of my spare time for it.”

“Huh. If only I knew what spare time was anymore…”  
Val sighs and shakes her head, before redirecting herself to the advisor.  
“That said, I am impressed how deeply you have dug into this.”

Lana looks unsure still and she slides closer over the sofa, moving her hand so that she can entwine their closest hands.  
“I’m sorry if this looked suspicious. I was going to tell you eventually, but I didn’t wish to do so too early. I wanted to get some results first, something that could potentially make you excited about it, but…there isn’t much yet.”

“Isn’t much? What were you expecting?”

“Well, I don’t know. There could’ve been anything, really; a message from the Empire to your homeworld regarding captives, requests from your family to find any of you, official reports from either side or perhaps even SIS intelligence documents. Sadly, I haven’t found anything specific like that.”

Val nods slowly, and she strokes her thumb at the back of Lana’s hand, while holding the other around the datapad.  
“Hmm, true enough, but this is still impressive. You have received this much about House Nih’etat?”

That Val actually looks interested at all does make Lana smile.  
“Well, yes. My contacts couldn’t give me much in terms of any Nih’etat interactions with the Sith Empire, but they could provide me with history. I thought I might as well agree to it, as I figured it could be some interesting supplemental information for when I gave you word of your father. Now, it’s…all I have.”

“Personally, I have only looked into them a little bit, but that was years ago and not very substantial. I simply tried to find the transport vessel that brought me in and what it said about me, so that I could know my name and where I come from. Anything else felt too impossible to obtain, as the Republic was far away.”

Changing the location of her hand, Lana leaves their joint grasp and wraps the arm around the Councilor’s waist instead.  
“Then I suppose this might be interesting after all, as my contacts located quite a bit more than that. I have browsed through a lot of it myself. You want me to show you?”

Val leans against her girlfriend’s shoulder and nods eagerly.  
“Please.”

Lana smiles brightly, and then uses her free hand to focus on the datapad, so that she can click on the screen.  
“Your family is quite a large one, actually, with multiple branches.  
Do you remember when you told me about that line of Kallig that fled the old Empire?”

The mirialan snorts.  
“Of course, how could I ever forget? The ghost of my ancestor never allows me to. I am the ‘last hope of Kallig’, after all. Ugh.”

Lana snickers and kisses Val’s head briefly.  
“Well, luckily, Nih’etat is more than that.  
It appears that out of those few who fled from the old Empire, a small amount started interacting with a mirialan House. They are not nobles exactly, just a proud bloodline with one name and a large united past. Their tale is quite substantial and impressive too.  
House Nih’etat has a long history that has lasted for several millennia, one that exists both on Mirial and the general vicinity of the Republic, where they have been respected for much of their existence. The one Kallig that married into Nih’etat merely did so out of convenience and survival, but that meant being absorbed into an already vast legacy; yours obviously include both.  
On Mirial, your family is known for a few specific things – its diplomats, its intellectuals and its fairly strong Force sensitives.”

A glint of amusement surges through Val’s eyes as she hears the last bit.  
“Force sensitives, huh?”

Lana seems to mirror this expression.  
“Yes. Funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

She appears smug as she says it, which makes Val roll her eyes.  
“Tsk, coincidence my arse. Seems I have powerful Force users from both sides, then.”

The advisor chuckles and nods in agreement.  
“Apparently so. Obviously, I wanted to know more of this and looked specifically into what interactions your ancestors have had with various Force Orders.  
Even before the event known as the ‘Jedi Civil War’, your House apparently has had at least two people that were Grand Masters over the Jedi. This was generations prior the war.”

A few names pop up on the screen and Val slowly widens her eyes.  
“Grand Masters…of the Jedi Order? Really?”

“Yes. You see here? Ievella Nih’etat was Grand Master centuries before the Great Hyperspace War, and then a few centuries after it, there was Grand Master Kizylo Nih’etat.”

She can certainly see the names and the texts about them, but unfortunately, there are no images. Val looks contemplative regardless.  
“That is…something I hadn’t considered. I knew my family existed on Mirial, but…not in this way. That’s quite astounding.”

Lana smiles and nods.  
“There’s more.  
During the Mandalorian Wars, Nih’etat was also represented among the Jedi Crusaders, the ones who fought the mandalorians. Master Allinde was her name and she joined apparently due to a wish to fight and protect the Republic. She refused to let the warrior clans destroy her home, and rejected the Jedi Council’s protests. It is said she fell sometime during the Civil War that followed.  
A few decades later, Bas’indi Nih’etat – her granddaughter – wanted to rectify the mistake of her family and was therefore one of the first new Jedi initiates after the Order was rebuilt.”

Val raises a hand to stroke her chin in thought.  
“Hmm…so even the Jedi in my family had children?”

“Indeed. It seems that, while they have had presences for quite a long time in both the Jedi and the mirialan’s own local Force groups, the Nih’etat family has always believed in strong bloodlines. Offspring is important to them and therefore they reject any other notions, even from the Jedi.”

Val contemplates this idea for a moment, something she hadn’t done much before, due to not having so much history on hand. Shortly after, she glances towards Lana, letting their eyes meet for a few seconds.  
“Good to know for the future.”

The advisor merely winks back at her, before she returns to the matter at hand.  
“This belief, and their capabilities, are even more fascinating when one sees how they have been active in other sections of the Republic, particularly the Galactic Senate.  
It was probably no coincidence that your father was a diplomat, since your family has had multiple members as senators representing Mirial during several millennia. They are apparently quite fierce believers in the Republic, at least if one looks at their goals and activities, and this has not faltered yet.”

“Hmm, I see. Not sure how I feel about that, but…definitely interesting. No Supreme Chancellor then?”

“Heh, sadly, no. Not yet, anyway.  
Except for the diplomats and the Force users, there are also the intellectuals. Nih’etats have not only provided some great mirialan scientists and scholars, but also started some prestigious universities of their own. Some of those on Mirial still stands, after generations. A few of your family went to the Republic colonies too, in order to help starts schools in more difficult regions, hoping to spread their knowledge.”

Val is smiling once more and slowly shakes her head.  
“I can’t help but feel quite amused if I consider this. I have never believed much in the Republic or their notions of democracy, which appears to be completely contrary to the rest of my family. I suppose I would be the outcast in that group.”

“Well, perhaps, but you do show the same prowess, skill and wisdom that has been expected by Nih’etats for a very long time. And even if I disagree with what they believe in, one must admire what they’ve done.”

Val nods in agreement.  
“Oh, definitely. I respect their cause, naturally, but I believe there can be a different path than both the Republic and the one the Empire is currently on. That’s why I’m trying to shape our home into a new entity.”

Lana seems distant for a moment and turns her eyes towards the datapad, looking though the many names on display, several of which she hasn’t had time to get into just yet.  
“Well, after reading through these documents, it feels like your actions are just another step in the long and proud history of your family. Leadership, diplomacy and righteousness have been their paths for generations.”

Lifting her free hand, Val slowly strokes a few fingers over the screen, passing by some of the name.  
“True and I respect that. It is…comforting to consider what I may be contributing to, even if I don’t know whether they will approve or not.”

Her words bring something joyful to Lana again, probably in part due to the advisor now knowing that she did the right thing.  
“Everyone has a history, Val, and I simply wanted to give you the chance to experience yours.”

At the same time, Val smiles once more and inclines her head slowly. Soon after, this gesture halts somewhat, due to unknown reasons, and she leans against Lana again.  
“But nothing on my father.”

That’s when Lana falters too and her expression disperses into a sense of guilt instead.  
“I…no. Not yet. I’m sorry.”

If she expected Val to simply take this apology without questioning it at all, she is sorely mistaken.  
The Councilor sits up just a little, so that she can watch her girlfriend properly. Then, she places her hand on Lana’s chin, grabs it and pulls her close. She locks their lips together somewhat demandingly, but also affectionately, kissing Lana as lovingly as she can possibly muster, to let the advisor know just how appreciative she is of this entire gesture. Lana appears to enjoy that as well.

When they finally stop and separate only a few inches, Val’s voice is lowered into something no more than slightly above a whisper.  
“Don’t be. This is more than I have ever had about my family, more than I even knew to ask. I didn’t know you cared this much.”

Closing her eyes, Lana tilts herself forward and connects their foreheads gently.  
“Like I said, I wanted to give you hope, and perhaps some faith, especially in yourself. This isn’t quite the way I wish it would have ended, but it’s certainly better than nothing and I’m glad you approve.”  
She waits a few seconds after this, gathering her thoughts and tries to define the next statement she’s going to offer.  
“If…you don’t mind, I would really like to continue with this endeavor. I’d want to see if I can locate more information through my contacts, perhaps important details of your family’s current situation too. Maybe they know things that I can’t find in official documents.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t mind if this is really what you enjoy doing. It was certainly an intriguing revelation to receive all of this. Just don’t get yourself into any trouble.”

Lana snorts amusedly.  
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to actively get into conflict with anyone.  
This should be easier anyway, right? Since this is about people that should be alive in our current era. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even be able to arrange some kind of meeting at some point.”

Hearing this, Val slowly tilts her head back and watches Lana curiously, before she leans forward to playfully nudge their noses together with a smirk on her lips.  
“Wait, so you’re…actively trying to meet up with my family? That is quite strange indeed. I thought most people did everything they could to avoid such a confrontation regarding their lovers.”

Affectionally stroking a hand down Val’s back, Lana considers the angle and has to acquiesce that it is rather peculiar.  
“That might be true, but I don’t view it that way. You suffered through a grueling meeting with my parents and-“

“Tsk, come now. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It certainly was for me! They were…embarrassing.  
And from that angle, would it really be fair if I attempted to avoid yours?”

Val suddenly erupts in a short laughter.  
“I see. So, you don’t wish to suffer in your humiliation alone, huh? Good to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, so, Valcera's name carries a lot of respect in the Republic. Too bad she grew up in the Empire, huh? Or good, depending on your viewpoint._   
>  _I was going to explore House Nih'etat in "Through passion's gateways", but I think I forgot that angle along the way. Might as well do it in this one._


	14. A time for accord

There are few people in the galaxy who are capable of quickly gathering several members of the Dark Council, while not even being part of that organization. One must either have a lot of influence, an extremely good reputation or another position in the Empire that somehow puts them on an equal level as the Councilors. It’s rather difficult to find people with any of these traits, but nigh impossible for anyone to have all three. Fortunately, there is at least one.

Four members of the Council have been assembled inside one room in an orbital station above Dromund Kaas, all sitting by a large rectangular table – Darth Marr, Darth Imperius, Darth Vowrawn and Darth Acina. Most of the surrounding area has been cleared out in preparation and the Sith all wait rather expectantly for what’s about to occur.  
After an unknown number of minutes, the automated doors slide open once more and two more individuals wander inside. One is the familiar tall twi’lek known to many as the Emperor’s Wrath, the woman who called for this gathering. The other is an individual in black robes with the hood pulled up. This person’s entire body is covered, making it impossible to gain any physical clue of an identity.

The Council members attempt to reach out with the Force and while they definitely detect sensitivity in this individual, whoever it is, it’s someone with a lot of skill for obscuring the truth of their presence.  
Both of them wander to a position only a few meters away and Zal’riva offers a pleased smile.  
“I’m glad to see everyone made it in time. I’ve heard that some of you may be a bit less punctual than others.”  
There’s no response, as they merely stare at her. At least Valcera appears to be amused.  
“So, the coalition has finally been created then? Wasn’t sure if you would be able to look past your own personal goals enough to complete it.”

“Tsk. It took a bit of compromising and a few hours of grueling negotiations, but you knew we’d make it, Zal”, says Val. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Doesn’t always feel like it.”

It appears that they can’t have a simple nice conversation for long, as some are a bit impatient. Well, Marr, to be specific. He sighs rather heavily at the comment.  
“Stop stalling. You called us all here without giving an explanation. I accepted out of interest, but I want answers, Wrath.”

One side of Zal’s lips tilts upwards and she tries her best to suppress the smugness, but it’s difficult. In the corner of her eye, she can see how Val folds her arms and leans back in her chair with a smirk on her face. Apparently, she’s enjoying this too.  
“Patience, Marr. I’m getting to it.  
It is true, I asked you to come without any aides, but I am not the reason that you’re all here. My actions were based on the request of my companion”, she says and then gestures towards the robed figure.

All four looks at the person who has yet to identify themselves.  
Vowrawn raises a hand to run a few fingers over the tendrils of his beard.  
“Your companion, hmm? We never expected to have a guest among us. Appears to be a most fascinating figure too. Even here, the truth of this individual remains…elusive.”

Marr’s arms are folded and Zal can see how his hands clenches somewhat around them.  
“There’s something disturbing about this creature. Who is it and what are they doing here?”

With another smirk, Zal glances towards her friend and speaks in a loud enough tone that the rest can hear.  
“I believe it’s time to stop hiding. They need to know.”

The person removes the hood and reveals a chiss beneath, with dark-blue skin, long blue hair, sharp glowing crimson eyes and a scar over one of them. The reaction among the quartet watching her ranges from curiosity to apprehension.  
“What?”, asks Marr, sounding very suspicious. “What is _she_ doing here?”

Val appears mildly surprised too, but mostly out of delight.  
“…Ktila?”

Vowrawn’s amusement rises as he continues to caress his own beard.  
“Interesting.”

The only one who shows signs of confusion is Acina, when she arches her eyebrow skeptically.  
“Erm, who is this?”

It’s the mirialan, who also sits closest to her, that turns towards Acina.  
“Ah, I suppose you haven’t been given as many of the reports. This is Ktila – _Jedi Master_ Ktila – who attacked Dromund Kaas over a year ago and led an attack on the Emperor’s temple.”

Before anyone can make another comment, the chiss clears her throat.  
“It’s _former_ Jedi Master, actually.”

Val tilts her head slightly, glancing at Zal for confirmation, but the twi’lek shows nothing.  
“Is that so?”

Acina smiles eagerly.  
“Ooh! Now that is interesting, indeed.”

Unfortunately, they’re not all on the same page, something they hear from the snort Marr emits.  
“And suspicious. What has brought her here? And why are you associated with a Jedi, Wrath?”

His tone is harsh as usual, as it feels like that’s the only way he ever chooses to speak with anyone in public.  
Ktila lifts her hands and holds them up in a slightly defensive manner.  
“Please, remain calm. I know what my presence may have instilled in you, but I want you to know that I’m not here to fight. I mean, not like I could take on four Dark Councilors alone anyway, right?”

The group hears a chuckle from Val.  
“Alone? Come now, Zal would never allow that. She would join you regardless of the consequences.”

The rest glances in the twi’lek’s direction, who only shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face.  
Ktila continues.  
“I have come here with a request.”

“One that I was eager to help her with”, Zal adds. “Since you were wondering, Marr, Ktila and I have been cooperating for a few years, even during my time as an apprentice. We’ve exchanged information and ideas back and forth ever since.”

The leader of the Empire’s Defense Sphere seemingly stares at Zal for several silent seconds before saying anything.  
“Did you help her attack the Emperor?”

“No, I did not. But, I didn’t stand in her way either, and I may have prevented others from doing the same.”

“And you expect us to listen to her, after what she did on this world? I’m not sure what she has told you, Wrath, but your trust does not remove her as a potential threat.”

Despite Marr’s reluctance, Val is very intrigued.  
“Well, I am excited, at least. This is an opportunity I didn’t know I’d get so soon.”  
She slowly surveys Ktila’s appearance, even if she can’t see much.  
“I’ve only had the chance to view holographic images in the past. You are…much more exquisite in the flesh. I can see what Zal is drawn to now.”

“Hey…”, she hears from the twi’lek.

At the same time, Ktila snickers and offers Val a brief wink. Marr’s suspicion does not disperse, but Vowrawn remains highly amused, even more so due to the behavior now displayed.  
“Well, we cannot promise what will occur after this meeting is over”, the pureblood tells Ktila, “but we can certainly listen to your request, since Lord Wrath vouches for you.”

Ktila bows her head out of respect.  
“Thank you. I am pleased to hear that Zal wasn’t incorrect about your tolerance.”  
When she stands up, she lets her eyes sweep back and forth to view all four.  
“Before you make any decisions, there are two things you must know.  
Like I implied earlier, I am no longer a member of the Jedi Order. I know that’s probably where most of you already know me from, along with what I did in their name. However, I no longer seek to fight the Empire, as that was never really my intention. I left to pursue another cause.”  
She shifts the position of her hands, putting them behind her back instead.  
“My main goal and purpose at this time is to hunt the Sith Emperor, Vitiate. I believe him to be the foremost threat to the stability of the galaxy at this time.”

Marr tilts his body forward, resting his crossed arms on the table.  
“You willingly admit that you hunt our leader and master?”

“Well, I understand why that might be somewhat of a concern for some of your kind, but from what I’ve heard Zal telling me, the four of you around this table are not exactly devout followers of Vitiate, are you?  
I know you work for and wish to protect the Empire, but not necessarily the Emperor’s cause or his person. His death is beneficial to you as well, no? If he is taken down, you will be free to rule the Empire however you wish, without interference.”

Acina hasn’t said much, but now slowly nods and keeps her eyes on the table, her mind swirling with thoughts.  
“It is true that the prospect is appealing, but for us to let a Jedi conduct this hunt is…strange. Even a former Jedi.”

“Yes, I know and understand you might not wish to work with me, but that’s not what I’m asking. All I’m requesting is that you at least don’t get in my way. Uh, my lords”, she adds as a last polite measure, which amuses both Val and Vowrawn.

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask”, Val comments. “What is the second fact, then?”

“That would be the very purpose of my arrival and the appeal itself.  
I’ve come to Dromund Kaas due to the Dark Temple. I want to visit the remnants and investigate it, in peace.”

Marr scoffs almost immediately after she’s done.  
“You mean the temple that _you_ demolished?”

Ktila shakes her head to dismiss the notion.  
“No, that is false. I did not wreck the temple. I know it was destroyed after my exit, but I was not the one who brought it down, nor did I seek to hurt your history or artifacts in any way. The one who caused this destruction was Vitiate, as he attempted to bury me under the rubble, and take me with him into death. Or hibernation, in his case.”

Zal lifts a hand to get their attention.  
“I can vouch for this outcome, as even the Emperor’s Hand agrees. It was a last bitter defense, hoping to cause as much damage as possible to her, before he went elsewhere.”

None here had actually known the details, as no one present at the temple during the assault was left alive. Val especially appears rather contemplative.  
“Hmm. Does this mean that you are confirming the survival of our Emperor? I know what Zal told us months ago, but…”

Looking both a bit disappointed and ashamed, Ktila exhales.  
“Sadly, yes, he remains alive. Vitiate is…very difficult to kill. But that is why I’m making this request and why I hope you will allow me to examine the temple. I haven’t been there since, and my last visit was too chaotic to see any details. I need to search through its remains, both physically and through the Force.”

Most of those here at least understands her reasoning and what she wants now, but they’re not as cordial as simply letting it pass. Marr leans back in his chair again and Ktila can’t help but sense the hostility aimed at her.  
“And why would we let someone like you do such a thing? Why should we not simply arrest you now, while we have the chance?”

Ktila shrugs once more.  
“Well, I’ve already told you - because this might benefit you as well. I know you’re no fans of Vitiate and I don’t seek to gain any knowledge to use against the Empire, only the Emperor.”

Marr is still not fully satisfied, and redirects his attention towards another Council member.  
“Imperius, you know Wrath better than any one of us, _and_ you are the head of Ancient Knowledge. It is your people who holds this place and tries to restore it for research purposes. Are you truly unperturbed by the prospect of a Jedi rummaging through its halls and seizing what she wishes?”

If he was hoping to make Val side with him or possibly give her some doubt, he will unfortunately remain disappointed, as Val smiles.  
“For the most part, I am. I don’t know Ktila much personally, but I’m familiar with her mindset and deeds through Zal’riva. I trust Zal’s judgement and that Ktila will act with the appropriate amount of delicacy when handling imperial artifacts. If she wishes to enter those halls, that is fine with me.”

“Without any supervision whatsoever?”

Before Val can respond, Ktila interjects.  
“Well, I don’t mind if you want to place guards or overseers around me, as long as I’m allowed to investigate everything. In fact, I encourage it.”

Even if the mirialan seemed ready to reject the prospect, she now has to acquiesce to both of their points.  
“Very well. I shall assign one of my most trusted Sith, Ashara Zavros, as your escort.”

Neither Ktila nor Zal say anything, but they are relieved at the choice. Probably the most lenient thing she could’ve done.  
From her corner, Acina seems to be caught in a combination of uncertainty and contemplation, as she tries to come to a decision.  
“Personally, I…don’t know for sure how I feel about this, but I also recognize this isn’t really my field of expertise. Imperius has never failed us before, though, and I trust her information. If she believes this is for the best and that it helps us against the Emperor’s iron fist, then I give my vote of approval.”

Vowrawn sits in his chair, having listened to the concerns of all the others and now that it’s his turn, he raises a hand to correct a few stray strands of hair, before placing both of them together over the table.  
“This entire endeavor is immensely intriguing to me, and I would never have believed I’d get the chance to have a direct encounter with the ‘Hero of Tython’. As long as Wrath and I can discuss this angle more at some point, I would be willing to let it go.”

For her part, Zal merely smirks and tilts her head somewhat.  
“if that is what you wish, I wouldn’t mind relaying a few more tidbits.”

“Splendid. The temple’s integrity doesn’t interest me anyhow, so please, proceed.”

The only one left now is Marr and his shoulders have slumped, while appears sincerely dissatisfied with most of their conclusions. He lets out a slow and heavy sigh before speaks.  
“I still don’t trust you, Jedi”, he says, and sounds just a small bit defeated, “but…I seem to be outvoted. There isn’t really much of a choice here. For the sake of this alliance, I will allow it.”

Ktila smiles brightly, seeming immensely pleased as she bows her head.  
“Thank you, my lords. I am glad for your understanding and acceptance. I promise to make this painless for you.”  


* * *

  
Once the meeting is over and all the necessary words have been spoken, the four Councilors leave the room and move into their separate paths. This choice leaves two people to be alone for a short while inside the area, at least for now.  
Ktila tilts her head back, closes her eyes and breathes out.  
“Phew. That was…more intense than I had anticipated. I mean, you warned me but…I wasn’t prepared.”

Zal snorts briefly and then slowly runs her arms around her girlfriend, enveloping her as best as she can. She slowly strokes her nose against the chiss’ soft hair.  
“You’re telling me? I was afraid Marr was going to stand up and challenge you to a duel on the spot. I knew he likely would pose some opposition to your arrival, but not that he’d be so adamant about it.”

Her words make Ktlila look towards her and form a small smirk. Shortly after, she slips her arms around Zal’s neck, pushing herself close.  
“I was never worried. I knew you would protect me.”

The twi’lek watches her curiously, before she arches one of her eyebrows.  
“Pff. Expecting me to fight the Dark Council for you now, do you?”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t try to do so, if they started it?”

Zal opens her mouth to say something, but it’s left in silence for several seconds instead. Eventually, she has no choice but to give in.  
“…no comment.”

Ktila giggles and strengthens her hold a bit, so that she can pull her beloved even closer. She gets her head into a better angle and locks her lips with Zal’s, sinking into a deep and enticing kiss. There’s a taste of satisfaction and relief in here which infuses their act, making it stronger. It does its job rather well, as Zal does appear to relax when she gets to hold her companion.  
“I’m glad that it worked out”, Ktila says when she gets a moment. “Now it only remains to be seen what the temple will provide for me.”

Before she responds, Zal watches Ktila’s rather calm and confident expression, wishing she could feel the same emotions about this endeavor, but finds that impossible.  
“True, but are you sure that you don’t want me to come and help? This is the Emperor’s old lair we’re talking about.”

Ktila smiles and rubs their noses together.  
“Your concern is appreciated, but I can handle myself.”

“I know that, of course, but I still wish you wouldn’t be so eager to go in alone.”

It’s fairly adorable to Ktila that she is so protective, but this can also lead to hyperbole.  
“Alone? Zal, first of all, Valcera is already sending Ashara as company, who you’ve told me several times is a very good and trustable Sith. On top of that, I will have Kira, T7 and Scourge at my side to offer assistance.”

Zal diverts her eyes to the side and narrows them somewhat.  
“…and I still don’t trust that last one.”

This isn’t the first time she has expressed doubt about the old Wrath, which is both an intriguing and entertaining aspect to Ktila, which can certainly be seen on her face at this time.  
“Tsk. You know what? It’s kinda cute that you feel such rivalry with Scourge.”

“Rivalry? Pff, please. That quitter doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

“I’d like to see that sometime.”  
As she ponders another aspect of their meeting, serenity envelops Ktila’s features once more.  
“It was also quite interesting to finally meet Valcera, but now I kinda wish we had more time. She was very pleasant and nice. Perhaps we can do this in a more extended fashion some other day.”

“Agreed. She is very excited about meeting you properly.”

“Heh, yeah, I noticed. Hadn’t quite expected that welcoming.”

“What do you mean?”

Ktila gazes intently into Zal’s eyes, as if the twi’lek should realize what she referenced.  
“Well, I suppose I didn’t expect her to be…you know, as flirty as you.”

Zal blinks at first, before she chuckles knowingly.  
“Ah, right. Yes, we share some traits and tastes, I suppose.”

“Guess I’ll have to wait and see what she does on our next encounter.”

While they’re on the topic of tastes, that seems to have ignited another type of fire in Zal, who now slips her hands in under the thick robes, stroking them slowly down Ktila’s sides. The chiss bites her own lower lip in response.  
“So…I guess you owe me a favor now, hmm?”

At first, Ktila raises her eyebrow inquisitively, wondering what Zal is up to, but as she also enjoys their little games, she slides closer, letting their bodies be intricately connected.  
“That was the agreement, yes. Do you…have any special request in mind?”

Zal’s purple eyes shifts to gaze directly into the crimson ones in front of her.  
“Mm, I should have a few. For instance, I might be able to convince some of the military officers on the fleets that, for purposes of moral, I may need…a companion.”

Ktila snorts with the hints of a smile on her lips, having adequately predicted where the Sith’s mind is currently located.  
“Hah. I’m not going to be your bedwarmer, Zal.”

“How about warming me up instead?”

“I dunno. Do you really want to show me off to all those imperials? Just think about what they might say and all the rumors that will spread of the Wrath’s intentions.”

One section of Zal’s mind is clearly saying ‘to hell with them’, but that is not a rational conclusion, which is why she hesitates.  
“Hmm. Maybe not.  
However, there are a lot of pretty decent vacation spots within imperial space, where I would be able to acquire a house for us to rent. If you can attain, say, a week or two where you are not distracted by anything else than me, I believe your debt would be paid in full.”

Ktila shuts her eyes and lets out a soft laughter.  
“A full week, huh?”

“Don’t complain. With what I did for you, I could certainly ask for more.”

She doesn’t say it out loud, but Ktila would normally contest this notion immediately. Fortunately, she actually very much enjoys the idea of temporarily forgetting the rest of the galaxy, which is why she doesn’t opposite it.  
Grabbing Zal’s hands and guiding her towards a nearby chair, she places the twi’lek on top of it, before getting down into her lap, letting them be even more intimate than previously.  
“You’ve got yourself a deal, ‘Wrath’.  
But, since this encounter robbed us of a perfectly adequate date and a day inside of your ship, I wouldn’t mind if we stay in this room for a while. Gotta get what we paid for, after all.”

Zal certainly wasn’t ready for this, but she does nothing to push Ktila away, submitting to anything Ktila does to her.  
“Paid? I requested this area in the name of the Emp-“

“Paid in social currency, dummy. Our time is valuable.”

The Sith laughs shortly.  
“You do realize we’re in orbit around Dromund Kaas, don’t you? The imperial capital? What do you think they’d say if they found a Jedi here?”

Ktila is not ready to stop, which is why she has now leaned closer, starting her ministrations by placing soft kisses along Zal’s neck.  
“Luckily, there are no Jedi here, just one very eager civilian with her Sith girlfriend.”

“…you know what I mean.”

“Why would I be scared of their demands? I’ve got the Emperor’s Wraith as my guardian.”

While Zal rolls he eyes and complains, she does sense how her own mind is beginning to surrender, as the influencing emotions given from Ktila is impossible to ignore. Any resistance is useless.  
“So overconfident. You’re sure I will simply dismiss all of your detractors here?”

Feeling very playful, Ktila grins and begins to nibble along Zal’s jaw, while unzipping the shirt on the other woman. Her tone alters into a more sensual one.  
“Saying you won’t? Well, I guess it’s fortunate that you have already captured me then, right? Or unfortunate, from my perspective. Who knows what the notorious Lord Wrath will do to a dangerous Jedi agent? Unspeakable things, I bet.”

Zal’s hands sink even further down and she places her grip on Ktila’s hips, squeezing them gently. Her breathing is getting heavier and talking is soon a most distracting element.  
“You are…too delightful sometimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For clarification - Marr is not pro-Emperor or anything. He's just very suspicious of Ktila and what Zal's play is by displaying her like this. That's why he acted so hostile here._


	15. Strained activities

It is rare that the administrative department for Military Offense gets a visit from anyone as important as its leader. Lana would perhaps say that Vengean may have been a slight exception, due to the fact that he led them during peacetimes. He also had a smaller interest for general Sith rivalry and were much more eager to reach the frontlines, which didn’t exist when Lana first joined this Sphere.  
Baras led them for less than a year and was very absent for the most part, and as for Malgus…well, he seemed to have had other plans, which is why he didn’t care what happened in the Imperial Citadel. This is why a visit like today is unusual and difficult to prepare for.

Technically, Darth Marr is not the leader of Military Offense, but with no actual Dark Councilor assigned to this Sphere, he has been given temporary command and it appears he is doing his utmost to make sure that they stay directed towards what is at stake. For the last several minutes, she has had to follow him around through the entire department, so that he can see what state they’re in. Lana wasn’t even aware that he was anywhere near Dromund Kaas, until he suddenly appeared at their doorstep, so this was quite…overwhelming.

“Has every structure been restored after Malgus’ attack? I hear there was a small battlefield on the day of his betrayal”, Marr comments.

The Darth is a meter or two ahead of Lana and he keeps a rather swift pace. He is quite fast for someone so large.  
“It has been, yes. For the most part.”

He glances over his shoulder, or at least that’s what she assumes based on how his head moves. Hard to know what he’s looking at with that mask.  
“For the most part?”

“We sustained damage in some areas that will require more delicate touches and extensive repairs. If the assignment isn’t completed properly, they might collapse again later on. Unfortunately, we have not been able to acquire the appropriate expertise. It appears that most are too busy at this time.”

Marr is silent for a few seconds as he contemplates this answer.  
“I suppose it is reasonable to expect a certain amount of difficulty in attaining the correct personnel in our current situation, but I want everything restored as soon as possible. We cannot let the Imperial Citadel be left in a weakened state.”

“I will do what I can, of course, but we need people with the skill, in that case.”

He looks at her while they are still walking.  
“We can’t do everything perfectly, Beniko, but there must still be an effort. Improvise.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They soon arrive at an area filled with desks and workstations, which makes a lot of the staff stand up and salute him. He ignores their gestures.  
“Have you been able to acquire more personnel in order to stabilize the gaps in our administration yet? As you are probably already aware of, it is vital for our strikes, strategies and coordination that everything proceeds accordingly in this section of the military. Without it, we cannot properly assess our progress and orders.”

Lana sighs, but only quietly. She does not wish him to know just how troubled she is. It doesn’t help that he speaks of this when they’re surrounded by the very same staff.  
“Of course, it is something we think of constantly here, my lord. I’m sad to tell you that we are still short, and many people are forced to work overtime. We are doing our very best, though, I assure you.”

“My other advisors have informed me that you are still behind.”

Lana has to bite her tongue, as to not display her annoyance. She knows that Marr is probably worried about the risks, which she doesn’t blame him for, but it is somewhat frustrating to constantly be questioned whether she’s doing enough.  
“Yes, I know, it’s not perfect. I will make sure that we reassess our current situation and improve.  
I can inform you that we have found some candidates that can bolster our numbers, but it has been problematic to obtain them. It is clear that other Spheres do not wish to lose their people either, which is why they won’t share.  
If you could potentially leave a few…”

They have gotten past the desks and stand in another corridor, where Marr stops and turns on his heel to face her.  
“I should not have to remind you that Defense is the most important Sphere at this time. We cannot leave vital assets to Offense.”

Lana looks up at him and has to strain herself to appear neutral.  
“But…should the military as a whole not share its resources by-“

“There must be other departments of less interest and critical value that you can speak to. Do it.”

“…yes, my lord.”

He turns around and continues walking, obviously expecting her to follow. Could they not have done this in her office?  
“Before I leave, there is one more area that we must discuss – traitors. From what the remnants of Intelligence have informed me, there are still some that linger in our ranks and we need to track them down. The Dark Council has decided that we must implement stricter protocols and security screenings.”

“I’m aware of this, as I received the reports too. However, this will be difficult for us, due to an abundance of tasks that already need to be completed. It’s very…challenging to simply switch assignments in the middle of a crisis like this.”

“Then you will have to create some room for it, as it is important. Do you realize how much damage can be done if we keep being undermined?”

Once more, the advisor exhales. Keep yourself in line, Lana. Do not start trying to argue with your superior.  
“Naturally, it is an area that we are particularly concerned about. I would be willing to try your methods, but there are other alternatives.  
There were a lot of people being locked up during the initial assaults, even ones that were not necessarily at fault, and a few of them could prove to be very…useful. They could provide valuable intel, and that is why I wish to acquire them. Unfortunately, Darth Mortis and his subordinates are not eager to release them into our hold.”

Marr is silent for a few more moments, probably comprehending her request, without her actually speaking it.  
“I see. I understand your point and the way you’re thinking, Beniko, but it will not be easy. I shall speak with Mortis and try my best to persuade him, but you must also do your job. Whether you receive these reinforcements or not, make sure to let everyone know why it is vital we root out the last vestiges of Malgus’ treachery and strengthen the Empire.”  
He stops and turns ninety degrees so that he can look at her.  
“Make it happen.”

She clears her throat and nods.  
“Yes, my lord.”

One thing Lana is quite aware of regarding Marr is that he’s not one for formal goodbyes, which is why he’ll likely just swirl around and leave as soon as he’s done. Interestingly, there’s something which prevents him from doing so at this time.  
From one of the corridors, they notice how a particular individual is wandering into the department, followed by her dashade bodyguard. Without even asking, the small audience already knows where she’s going, which is why no one is surprised to see her approach the other two Sith.

Marr folds his arms when she gets closer.  
“Coming here to bother one of my advisors again, Imperius?”

Valcera arches one of her eyebrows skeptically, before she stops a few meters away and plants her hands at her hips.  
“No, I’m not ‘bothering’ anyone. I’m here for two reasons – to see someone close to me and to tell you to stop pressuring my girlfriend.”

Marr snorts, shakes his head and then turns in the opposite direction, wandering out through another corridor.  
“Don’t disappoint me, Beniko”, is the last they hear from him.

Lana takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.  
“I…I won’t, Dark Lord. I swear.”

After glaring at Marr’s back for a couple of second, Val’s expression shifts into something more compassionate when she looks at Lana. She reaches out with a hand towards the advisor.  
“He can be such a bastard at times. Are you alright?”

Opening her eyes once more, Lana leaves them in a lowered state.  
“I’m…fine.”

“You neither look nor feel fine, and I can certainly see why. You need to find a place to relax. Is there anything I can do?”

At first, Lana opens her mouth to dismiss the offer, but she hesitates. Glancing down at the hand on her arm, she gets an idea. It’s…inappropriate in this location, but she can easily remedy that. Without another word, she seizes Val’s hand somewhat tightly and drags her away, straight towards Lana’s own office. The Councilor appears surprised, but does not protest. Khem follows, but not into the room.  
Eventually, they both enter her work quarters and once they do, she quickly closes and locks the door behind them. Val is somewhat bewildered by the whole gesture, as she stands there looking at Lana with a similar emotion.

“Uh, was there something you wanted to discuss or-“

Without telling her why or what’s going to happen, Lana places her hands around Val’s arms, slowly but firmly pushing her into the closest wall. It’s not a harsh gesture, but something that the Councilor probably hadn’t expected. Lana then envelops Val’s waist with her own arms and makes their lips collide in a rather demanding kiss. Coming from Lana, it is quite an unusual gesture, as she is rarely this determined. Again, Val does not stop her, but instead leans into the embrace.

It can’t be said that Lana entirely lacks passion, as she still follows a certain ideal for what Sith should be, but it is uncommon that she displays much of it, outside of bed. When it occurs here, in the middle of the office, Val senses how shivers of delight run through her, while slowly putting her hands on Lana’s shoulders. If the advisor wishes to indulge her desires, even during work hours, then who is Val to stop her from doing so? It is an alluring treat.

Surprisingly, she had apparently underestimated how much Lana needed her. The human’s hands begin to roam across Val’s body, reaching for the bottom half of Val’s robes. She separates some of it, to give the mirialan more space, before she places both hands underneath Val’s ass. She grabs ahold of both cheeks and lifts her up. This gesture naturally shocks Val, as she tries to emit a gasp, but Lana’s lips prevents her from being audible.  
The space between them now is even less than before and Val isn’t quite sure how to respond. All she can really do is leave herself in Lana’s arms. Due to the intensity of the kiss, Val becomes swept up in it and wraps her legs around her lover’s waist, letting Lana hold her. It is…enticing to see her display such strength, even if Val doesn’t weigh much. How far are they going with this, though? Does Lana intend to take her right here and now? That might be interesting.

Soon after, Lana finally settles down, lowering Val back to the ground and reluctantly ends the physical interaction. As their lips part, both of them are breathing quite heavily, their hearts beating so vigorously they can feel their bodies vibrating somewhat, possibly out of excitement.  
Once both of their eyes flicker open, Val gazes searchingly at Lana’s yellow ones.  
“That was…”

The advisor clears her throat.  
“…sorry. Just…frustrations.”

Val emits a breathy chuckle.  
“I noticed. Now I…feel like I should come here more often, whenever you’re stressed out.”

Lana smiles, looking a bit embarrassed at her own reaction, which is why she offers her lips in a slower and more gentle fashion. This is something Val appreciates too, and eagerly accepts. Afterwards, Lana leans down to nuzzle against her girlfriend’s shoulder.  
“My activities here at work have been quite…difficult as of late. I may have too many things on my mind.”

Lifting one of her hands, Val leaves it on Lana’s head, stroking her fingers through the blonde locks.  
“Has Marr been that harsh with you?”

“Well…it’s not just work. I’m worried.”

“Something specific?”

Lana hesitates, wondering if it’s worth putting the same concern in Val. But, then again, if she cannot share such burdens with the one’s living with, then who can she trust?  
“My parents. I fear that an attack may soon be launched against Bosthirda. I received certain military intel that Malgus’ troops have marked it as a possible location to make a real assault on. I don’t know if my family will be safe there anymore.”

She senses how Val reacts to this by pulling her closer, holding her tightly, in a supportive manner.  
“Have you told them this?”

“No, I can’t. Military secrets of this magnitude are not for them.”

“Heh, but it is for me, hmm?”

“You are a Dark Councilor…and my girlfriend. That’s different.”

Val understands, of course, which is why she nods in agreement.  
“Well, if you wish, I could make sure that they come to Dromund Kaas. There’s not a lot of space, but I’m certain I can find a location for them to stay.”

“I would appreciate it, but I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Val snorts and pokes Lana somewhat playfully in the side.  
“I don’t want to hear that nonsense. You never will be, darling. Your family is my family, and vice versa.”

Finally deciding to tilt her head upwards a bit, she starts by looking into Val’s lovely blue eyes, and then nuzzles into her cheek instead.  
“Thank you.”

“No need. I will do anything for you.  
Speaking of which, I noticed how Marr appeared to be pretty demanding earlier.”

Not really the kind of topic Lana wishes to discuss, but perhaps it’s fair if they do. Val should know what goes on here.  
“Yes, he was, more so than usual. He’s putting a lot of tasks on us. Part of me wonders if it’s some kind of test.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I’m certainly not the only Sith around, but there are very few within this Sphere that are capable of handling the necessary administration efforts. Most others in Military Offense are…well, on the frontlines.  
As an advisor, my role is much more tied to leadership, documentation, and the desk job assignments that we provide here. It’s rare that I get an opportunity to head straight for battle. Not that I’m less capable, just deprived of the action.”

Val is already quite aware of Lana’s role, but it’s interesting to hear her give a personal view.  
“If you did get the chance, would you want it?”

“Well, not really. Glory in battle isn’t what interests me, but you know this. I only want to serve the Empire in whatever capacity I can, and this is clearly where I’m currently needed.”

“True, but just because this is a ‘desk job’, that does not make it any less taxing. I can see it on your face, in your eyes. Are you sure I can’t do something for you? Other than being your favorite person to kiss; which, I might add, is a skill I’m an expert at.”

Lana displays a small smirk at that last comment and shakes her head.  
“Is that a general or personal offer?”

“Well, I don’t wish to misuse my power, but…”

This could be a potential chance for Lana to ask for more administrative personnel. She knows that Val’s subordinates are just as strained, but isn’t it more important that the military gain their share first? She doesn’t really know if she can do that to Val, though. This is a section where her feelings may affect her job.  
“Thank you, but I don’t believe there’s anything you can give me right now. I don’t want to get you into trouble with-“  
She suddenly halts and reconsiders, when another idea emerges from the depths of her mind.  
“…actually, there might be one thing.”

“Oh? Go ahead.”

“There is a particular aspect that I might need help with. It concerns releasing prisoners.”

This appears to be a field where Val and Marr share skepticism, which is why the mirialan arches one of her eyebrows.  
“Releasing…prisoners? Right, that does sound rather suspicious.”

“Yes, I can see why, but it won’t be if you view it from my angle.  
The few prisoners that I want to release are not general criminals, ones that should not really be guilty of anything, but they are blamed for something specific – treason.”

Val closes her eyes.  
“Lana…”

“No, listen to me, Val. These specific individuals are getting these crimes thrown at them merely by association, but I am sure they are innocent.  
The foremost of these is Lord Cytharat.”

Val shifts the location of her hand to stroke her own chin thoughtfully.  
“Cytharat…why do I recognize that name?”

“I believe you met him once. He used to be one of Malgus’ apprentices.”

“Ahh, yes, now I recall. The polite pureblood, right? He seemed rather nice, if I'm not mistaken. They have imprisoned him?”

Lana nods eagerly, glad that Val at least appears to like him.  
“They have, and I don’t believe he deserves it. While he may have served Malgus, this was only out of loyalty to his master, to the one who made him Sith. His own wishes are only to serve the Empire in whatever way it needs him and to be beneficial for our progress. Personally, I believe he can still be useful. I noticed it when I read his report – when he was arrested, he did not provide any resistance and gave himself up.”

That is a pretty good sign and Val is slowly warming to the idea.  
“Interesting, although not necessarily proof.”

“True, but we could give him a chance to prove himself, to rectify the mistakes of his master, without having to die. Most of all, he knows Malgus better than us and I think he can be very useful in order to find other traitors and act as a stabilizing factor. It would be a chance for others to see that someone close to Malgus chose us in front of him.”

A small smirk appears on Val’s lips and she inclines her head when she recognizes this point.  
“Quite inspiring, indeed. I think I like this plan.”

“There is an obstacle, though - Darth Mortis’ people are reluctant about listening to a simple advisor in this matter. They don’t believe my facts are enough. A Dark Councilor, however…”

Val raises her eyes to lock them with those of her beloved, running a hand along Lana’s cheek.  
“Don’t worry, darling, I will make sure that you receive whomever you request.”


	16. The inevitable maw

In the distance below her, Ktila can already feel it, even before she gets a good view. The structure is almost awaiting her, as if it somehow expected her approach. It’s disconcerting to consider that such power still lingers in a place like this, and yet she’s not entirely surprised. Can anything from that man, that creature, ever be cleansed? Perhaps once he’s dead and gone, she might finally be free of his influence and never have to worry again.

Once the shuttle finally sets down on a patch of grass in the area, both Ktila and Kira receive the signal that they are allowed to exit the vehicle. They had to be flown here by imperial officials, of course, as there was no other way. Unfortunately, Scourge and T7 had to wait on the Shielded Path.  
She’s not sure if these people know who either of them are, but they have obviously been instructed to keep the duo under strict supervision. It’s not something that Ktila begrudges them or anything, as they’re merely following orders. Still, would’ve been nicer if they weren’t constantly glaring.

They step outside followed by the imperial soldiers, and not too far from the vessel, another person is already waiting for them. Ktila can’t remember ever seeing this togruta face-to-face, which could be why Ashara seems excited, based on her smile. She’s wearing simple official-looking burgundy and black robes, with a few metal pieces for protection here and there. Her lightsabers are at her belt too.  
“Greetings, master Ktila and Knight Carsen. I’m glad to see that you arrived safe and sound.” Shortly after, she glances at the guards and waves at them.  
“You are dismissed. I will take it from here.”

They salute her quickly.  
“Yes, Lord Zavros.”

Ash gestures for them to follow, as the three walks off to get a little bit more privacy. They won’t be completely alone, but hopefully won’t be heard by the entire complex.  
At a suitable location, Ash turns on her heel and bows her head respectfully.  
“I would like to start by saying it is an honor to finally meet with the Hero of-… _Heroes_ of Tython. I have awaited this chance for a long time.”

Kira smirks at the words used and glances at her companion.  
“I like her already.”

The chiss snorts.  
“Of course you do”, she says and then redirects her eyes to the Sith. “I hope we haven’t caused you all too much trouble, Lord Zavros. We know Darth Imperius’ order must have been very sudden.”

“None. I have learned to adapt to what’s necessary. But, please, call me Ashara.”

Going from her previously mischievous appearance, Kira switches into a smile instead.  
“It’s good to see you too, by the way. I’ve heard a bunch of stuff about you from…uh, two particular women.”

Ash mirrors the expression and nods knowingly.  
“Naturally, I would expect nothing less. Your companions and I have spent some time together, every now and then. We help each other out, as we have similar goals.”

“And backgrounds”, Ktila adds.

“That too.  
But I won’t pretend that I don’t know you as well. Both of them have spoken fondly of you in the past. Very fondly.”

Kira clears her throat and looks somewhat shyer.  
“Heh. That’s…that’s good. They’re important to me.  
Like I said, they’ve talked about you too, and praised your skill and determination a lot. It’s kinda interesting that you and Jaesa both left the Jedi at a very similar time.”

Ash’s expression becomes somewhat contemplative, likely as old memories return to her.  
“Indeed, although I do wish we wouldn't have had to depart due to such unfortunate circumstances. However, I have been able to adjust, and I do not regret where the Force has led me. I am eager to do my part to aid master Valcera.”

Suddenly, Kira looks playful again.  
“Master, huh? I thought that you had been promoted recently. Or were my ‘companions’ wrong?”

“I have, yes, but she is still my master, my superior. They use the same terminology among the Jedi, right?”

“Well…okay, you’ve got a point.”

“Besides”, Ash says and glances between the two, “the two of us are not alone in leaving the Jedi, yes? From what certain rumors have informed me, neither of you are members of the Order anymore.”

Kira raises a hand to scratch at her neck, feeling a bit silly about the whole thing for some reason.  
“Heh, yeah, that’s true. We’ve kinda decided that the Jedi needs to change and think in a more flexible way, or they’ll be screwed. Sadly, they’re not really interested in our suggestions.”

“I tend to agree with your opinion, actually. The Jedi has grown too stagnant and needs to evolve, just like the Sith require a new path. That said, neither can reach this future without some help, so we likely must find some way to cooperate.”

Shortly after, she gestures with her hand for them to follow once more, as they approach the structure in the background.  
This area is far from empty, though, as there are lots of people walking all around. Some are using various equipment to lift or destroy rubble, others are examining intriguing remnants, and even more are taking care of drearier tasks, such as cleaning out bodies, dust or wasted gear. Ktila assumes that most are from Imperial Reclamation Service. None of them seem particularly interested in the Force users, though, as they are far too distracted by their tasks of restoring the temple.

The group has not yet reached their destination and as they’re moving rather casually, Ktila turns to look at Ash.  
“Do you know Zal? Uh, the Emperor’s Wrath, I mean.”

Ash smiles at her.  
“You don’t have to use the title, as I’m familiar with her real name. I do not know her intimately, but we have met on several occasions for various reasons. Most of those have included some type of sparring. Master Zal’riva is a very talented fighter and I have done my best to learn from her skill.”  
She stops speaking for a moment, seemingly pondering a particular thought and whether to mention it. Eventually, she decides it’s worth explaining.  
“At one of our first encounters, she actually mentioned how my style reminded her of yours.”

Ktila arches her eyebrow amusedly.  
“Really now? That’s interesting. Well, if you want, I wouldn’t mind helping you with a session as well sometime.”

This seems to please the Sith, as her expression widens.  
“I would love to try that as well, master. Testing my skill against yours would be a pleasure and an honor. For now, though, we should focus on the task at hand.”

By now, they’ve ascended the stairs, up to the foot of the massive structure ahead of them – the Dark Temple. Well, not so massive anymore, as it’s not completely intact. A lot of it has fallen apart, especially at the front, with much of the debris still being left in this region. Some of the walls remain standing, especially the frame at the entrance, and the Reclamation Service appears to be doing its best to remove most rubble, while preserving as much as possible.

It’s been a while since they were last here, since the days of invading this world and fighting the Emperor in his own lair. It’s strange to even consider that she performed such a risky plan, with everything to lose, practically ready to die just to succeed against him. And yet…if she had the chance once more, wouldn’t she do the exact same thing? He is still a menace, the one being in this galaxy that poses more threat than anything else.

“The mission given to me included supervising you”, Ash tells them. “However, master Valcera also gave me permission to…conduct that task as I see fit. Therefore, I believe my supervision shall be…limited.”

Kira smirks and folds her arms.  
“I knew Jaesa and Vette were right about you.”

Ash nods and gestures at them.  
“I will mostly act as a guard, both to protect you and to keep others away. They won’t complain if they see me nearby. If you need me for anything else, I will obviously assist however I can. Master Valcera would not want either of you to get hurt, nor would master Zal’riva, I suspect.”

Now that they’re in a good position to view it, Kira practically shivers.  
“Well, this place is as creepy as ever. Lovely.”

“Indeed, it hasn’t changed much. I never visited this lair myself, when it was still intact, but I did hear of your encounter. Or ‘intrusion’, I suppose they call it.”

Kira nods with a grim look on her face.  
“Yeah, we intruded alright. I never went very far, personally, but I’m not complaining. Hate this place.”

As they stop not too far from the entrance, or what remains of it, Ktila appears to slowly survey it, although it’s hard to say exactly what she’s looking for.  
“Is there any particular area you wish to visit, master Ktila?”, Ash asks her.

Both of the somewhat younger women watch the former Jedi Master, expecting a response, but nothing comes. The chiss merely stands there, staring at the ruined structure. Kira gets a feeling that she’s far away from here right now, and it worries the former Knight.  
“Uh, Ktila?”

Suddenly, Ktila shakes her head and leaves whatever she was submerged in, viewing her companions confusedly.  
“Hmm?”

“...were you listening?”

“I…uh, no. I was just-…what did you say?”

Ash and Kira shares a brief look, before the togruta prepares herself for the same approach.  
“I wanted to know if there is any particular section of the temple that you wish to visit? Or the outer layers of it, rather. We cannot go inside.”

“Hmm”, Ktila emits and raises a hand to stroke her chin. “I’m not quite sure yet. I think I’d just like to wander the outside of this place for a while, see what I can find. If that’s alright.”

“Certainly. I am here to assist you, so you make the decisions.”

“Right. Well, if you and Kira check the eastern sections of the debris, I’ll head a bit closer to the entrance.”

Not a bad plan in Ash’s mind, but Kira does not appear to be as confident.  
“You sure it’s wise to split up?”

Ktila views her friend and former padawan, gently putting her hand on the human’s shoulder.  
“There are a lot of people here, Kira. We’ll be fine.”

Kira sighs, despite the comforting motion.  
“You always say that, but I never know if it’ll actually help. But okay, I’ll do what you ask.”

Once they do split, as expected, Ktila wanders off on her own, trying to examine the structure. Obviously, she is not quite as intrigued by the physical remnants as some of these imperials, but rather what she can sense through the Force.  
Zal has told her the story of what this place was like before Vitiate came back, that it was haunted and tormented spirits lingered due to the Emperor’s influence. She’s kinda glad that she never experienced that, but does this mean it’s a bad idea to actually attempt a mental connection at this time? Only one way to find out.

The first sensation she picks up is obviously not pleasant, rather eerie, but it feels different than what she would expect from simple ghosts. She doesn’t believe it’s any spirit, even if she can’t tell for certain, but there is something in the air.  
Invisible elements touch her mind, prodding her skin and she senses how some type of wind blows in from nowhere, surrounding her and sending chills down her spine. She instinctively draws her robes closer, hoping to remain resolute.  
And that’s when it hits her.

She can’t remember the last time that she received images, visions from the Force. It has certainly happened previously, but this one doesn’t feel quite like it’s supposed to. It’s not as strong, which is something she notes when her sight flickers, but doesn’t completely steal her away.  
She tries to stop and focus, to clear her mind and see what exactly the energy here is hoping to show her. Unfortunately, she finds herself confronted with a familiar presence – the Emperor.

This view is not new to her, though, as she remembers being in that location. Vitiate is on his throne, sitting inside the Dark Temple, in the pose that she saw him when they fought. She assumes that this vision is from her perspective, as she is standing at the foot of the stairs. She still hasn’t forgotten how confident he was.  
_“You cannot strike me down, Jedi. You believe fiercely in your cause, your own abilities, but they will do nothing for you. Fight, if you must, but in the end, all of this will be utterly futile.”_

Ktila gasps when she manages to shake it off, seeing that she’s standing close to a wall. She puts her hand to it for support and takes a moment to breathe. If she glances around the area, she’s thankful that there’s nothing more in the vicinity and no soldiers have noticed her distress.  
Was that really a vision? It felt so…real, like she was actually there. She could sense the cold that swept around her that day, the stale air, the stone beneath her feet…

She must go further. Perhaps that’s a foolish thought and she’s sure that Kira would protest what she’s doing right now, but there is potential mystery for her to solve. She must have answers, and the truth has to be here somewhere, hidden from her eyes.  
Closing them and attempting to focus her thoughts once more, she realizes that she’s not wrong – soon enough, yet another vision materializes, but not quite the type she had expected.

It’s two people, walking through some type of dark tunnel or corridor. She doesn’t quite recognize it, but the walls resemble those inside the Dark Temple. Did it used to look different in the past?  
The pair are unknown to her, at least by their appearance. One is a rather tall man, dressed in tight red clothes and armor, with a bald head and two long blue tattoos over his scalp. The other is a somewhat more ambiguous individual, definitely shorter, but with no features that are distinguishable. This person wears black and red robes, with the hood up, plates protecting their arms and chest, plus a metal mask covering their face.  
The only familiar aspect for Ktila is the fact that they both hold lightsabers. Jedi, then?

At first, the two talks among themselves as they wander through the corridor, but this notion changes when a deep and echoing voice is heard.  
_“Revan, Malak – I have expected you. How pleasant of you to arrive just in time.”_

Those names…she knows both of them, especially Revan. Or, rather, Raekah. Scourge has told her about what that Jedi did to Vitiate, and how much she fought. Supposedly, it was the Emperor who killed her in the end, or that’s what Scourge claimed. Has her spirit lingered somehow?  
Revan raises the lightsaber in the right hand and calls out into the darkness.  
_“Vitiate! We know of your schemes and your plans for this galaxy! Did you think that no one would find out and try to stop you?”_

A chuckle is heard echoing through the halls shortly after.  
_“You see yourselves as some great investigators, having exposed my deepest secrets? Amusing, but not impressive.”_

The vision skips ahead a bit after that, as words become indistinguishable for a moment, before it shows her a specific section.  
_“Why are you doing all this?”, Revan asks. “What do you hope to accomplish by making people suffer from afar? Is this a game to you?”_

 _“It is possible to define existence as a game overall, dear Revan._  
_The minds of people in this galaxy are so fragile and can break at the slightest of touches. The Republic needed to be tested, and the mandalorians were the perfect tools for this task, disposable as they were.”_

The vision fades.  
The Mandalorian Wars. Ktila remembers reading about them back in the Jedi enclaves on Corellia. She knows what everyone went through, the suffering that was created due to that conflict, but it was Scourge who told her that Vitiate was behind it all. To think that he would have such power is just…she doesn’t even know what to make of it still. Did she really defeat that type of powerful creature?

Before she has time to consider it any further, another vision sweeps over her, one that she didn’t even ask for. Her sight goes blurry and she is presented with something different.  
She finds herself in an area she doesn’t recognize, some type of forest with huge trees. The sky is dark, but not due to general corruption, as a storm has erupted. Before her, she spots an enormous structure – a temple, surrounded by a thick mist. It reminds her of the Dark Temple, but the style is different.

She recognizes that she’s not alone. Several figures are familiar to her – Darth Marr, Grand Master Satele Shan, Cipher Nine, Master Iron’zeranz, Major Hiktesh and many more. What are they all doing here? She doesn’t-  
Shortly after, her vision swirls around, forcing her to look in a particular direction, as an important figure floats down from the sky – Zal’riva. The twi’lek looks calm, but distant, as if she’s not quite there. The voice that echoes from around her does not belong to her either, but to Vitiate.

_“She is my Wrath, my most enduring instrument…but also so much more. And you, dear Ktila, you are the ferocity of truth. A creation that I have molded, to reach for perfection. Both of you are unique, vital for the vision I have of this galaxy. There are roles for you in this future and you must prepare.”_

When she finally regains her eyes this time, she’s not just holding a hand on the wall, but actively leaning against it. She tries to keep herself standing, to not falter, but it’s getting really hard. Her head is becoming overwhelmed with the power which wants to invade her.  
What’s going on? Where are these visions coming from? Did she exceed her limits? Could she have poked into something that she shouldn’t have approached? Are the remnants of the Emperor’s spirit affecting her or is Vitiate actually here, doing this to her mind? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet…

The mental torment is not over, as yet another one reaches her.  
This time, she finds herself in yet another area that she has never seen before. It has two aspects in abundance – room and windows. Outside of them, Ktila can see a large flourishing planet, surrounded by the darkness of space. Spires seem to poke up from the surface of this land and its orbit is filled with unfamiliar ships.

Personally, she’s standing on some type of thin platform, almost looking like a bridge, that leads to a round center piece with a throne. On top of it sits an old man – a human - with finely combed grey hair and beard. He wears a very ornate set of armor and robes, mostly in white, gold and black. His sharp grey or blue eyes view her with curiosity, before he stands up and slowly walks towards her.  
_“This power is not something that is necessarily mine alone, but an aspect that we can share. Consider what boundaries we can break, what lengths we can transcend, if you only give it a chance. All that I require of you both, is to kneel.”_

The old man reaches out with his hand towards her from a distance and she view it with interest, finding herself practically mesmerized by it. Unfortunately, it is not for the reasons she may have hoped.  
Another sight appears within his grasp, tossing itself right into her eyes. She spots the same ships that surrounded the planet going elsewhere, flying to Dromund Kaas, Coruscant, Tython, Korriban and many other worlds that deserve better. Each one is showered in endless devastation from the armada.

She doesn’t know how its possible, but she feels the pain and the suffering from the deaths that mount up during this process and it hammers right into her chest.  
Simultaneously, she hears a voice whispering into her ear.  
_“My blade never dulls, always strikes fiercely and destroys what it touches…but it cannot see without the shield.”_

On the temple grounds, Ktila lets out a shout of pain that is heard by pretty much everyone nearby. She falls to the earth below her, as the agony seeks to overwhelm her, desperately hoping to find a way out. Luckily, another creature separates these shrouds and frees her.  
Shortly after, she hears a new voice speaking, but not any of the visions.  
“You should be careful around such entities. They can devour you, if you are not mindful. I suppose most of this generation are similarly foolish.”

Ktila gasps and raises a hand to her forehead, feeling how she’s got quite a massive headache, and she can’t fully see who is talking to her, but it does sound like an old man of some sort.  
“Master…Din?”

The voice snorts.  
“Not a name anyone has ever given me.”

Once she actually manages to open her eyes, she finds herself looking up at the sky from below, and there is a person waiting there, but his robes and the mask he utilizes does not resemble anything she knows. He is clearly translucent, though. A ghost.  
“Who are you?”

“Someone is after your spirit, Jedi, someone powerful. Be careful, or his shadow will swallow you whole. Personally, I would suggest running.”

He doesn’t explain himself any further, as his presence merely disperses. Luckily, she spots two more people hurrying in her direction, and they are ones she knows at least.  
“Ktila!”, Kira shouts. As soon as she reaches the chiss, she leans down and tries to help her out, worry being very blatant in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“What happened?”, Ash asks.

With their help, the former Master sits up and breathes out. She still has to shut her eyes and hold a hand over them, though.  
“I…I’m fine.  
…okay, not really. My head is killing me, but at least I’m not dead.”

Kira takes her hand, clutching it both protectively and fearfully.  
“What happened to you? We just heard you scream and then you…fell over.”

Ktila is thankfully strengthened by the Force bond they share, feeling how she can recuperate thanks to Kira’s close presence.  
“I’m not sure. I just…started receiving these visions out of nowhere, both of the past and what I believe to be the future.  
I would still be trapped in there, if it wasn’t for that apparition, whomever it was supposed to be. Told me to be careful.”

Ash nods slowly.  
“Yes, we…we saw him. I have encountered him before, through master Valcera. It is Lord Kallig, one of her long dead ancestors. For some reason, he continues to watch over his place. And her.”

“Well, guess I was lucky he’s around, then.”

The other Jedi slides a bit closer to her friend, trying to wrap her free arm around Ktila.  
“Let me help you up. I know you might not like to hear this, but I suggest we leave.”

Usually, Ktila is ready to argue with Kira regarding her own safety, not wanting to be coddled or underestimated. For once, that doesn’t happen.  
“You’re right. I need to…think about this, and rest. I have to contemplate what I received from this place.”

Kira breathes out in relief, definitely not being in a mood to fight about it. Ash approaches Ktila’s other side, helping her out as well.  
“You can both come with me. I will find a safe location for you to stay until you’ve recovered, master Ktila.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Ashara is a bit of a fan of Ktila. I sort of hinted at that in "Among the faded tales", I think? Can't fully remember._   
>  _The section with Revan and Malak was a flashback I used in["Visions of devastation"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135367/chapters/20758702), my Revan novel rewrite fic. The other visions were...well, I'm sure we'll get there eventually._


	17. Robbed loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, most of this chapter is written from the perspective of an NPC. I felt this particular section of the story would work best that way._

There are a few places in the Empire that many people – whether imperial or outsider – would like to avoid. Some might say those areas include various secret research labs, Sith alchemical creation centers or some ancient Lord’s tomb, but there are more options. The prisons belonging to the organizations below the Sphere of Laws and Justice are definitely added to those calculations.  
Not that such facilities are maintained poorly; quite the opposite. Some of the most important jails, whether in orbit or on the surface, are given a lot of resources to conduct their set duties and goals. The unfortunate angle for the prisoners is that many are unlikely to ever the light of day again.

Within one such cell in the depths of Kaas City, a cage that is more reinforced than many others, sits a pureblood with pale red skin, yellow eyes and black hair. Not a lot is offered in this colorless cell, other than a bed and a toilet. If he has to receive necessities, such as food and water, there is a hatch on one of the walls where they slide it in.  
Despite whatever other seating arrangements he has, this man prefers to remain on the floor, which is where one can find him now. His legs are crossed, his hands in his lap and despite trying to maintain an air of resolute impassivity, his shoulders are somewhat slumped as well.

Cytharat doesn’t know exactly how long it has been now since he was placed in here. Weeks? Months? Hopefully not years. It’s difficult to keep track of time on Dromund Kaas to begin with, much more so in this confined space.  
If he were to guess, however, he’d assume that a few weeks have transpired. That should have been when the revolution started. He has been sitting like this in isolation ever since, which isn’t something he blames his jailors for. They had to lock him up, for his associations, something he agreed with. And where were they going to hold him? With other prisoners? A Sith would be too dangerous in such company.

None of this is foremost concern anyway. Instead, he attempts to focus on something specific, a source he hopes to locate through the Force. During his entire time in captivity, he has periodically tried to reach out to someone. There is a wish, possibly even a need, to find his master. If he can do that much, perhaps all is not lost and he can prevent further internal bloodshed. What would that action be, though? To arrest that man? To fight him? Cytharat isn’t even fully certain that he would prove to be a challenge for his master's ferocity.

Not that any of these thoughts matter, because yet again, he senses nothing. Cytharat is aware that some masters and students connect on a deeper level, creating bonds and interactions that strengthen their abilities in the Force on a united front. This usually is due to a variety of affection, such as between friends or lovers, but it can also occur in rivalry. That is a reason to push one’s boundaries as well, after all, to best your opponent.

Sadly, Malgus never let him in, never allowed Cytharat that opportunity. Their relation was cold, distant, despite how much time the pureblood spent in his master’s presence.  
It’s not for a lack of trying either. Cytharat wanted the chance to be useful to his master, to know what it feels like when two people fight as one. It appears that Malgus had other plans, though. Perhaps his apprentice was nothing more than a tool? You don’t treat a lightsaber like you do your comrades, after all.

Even if there had been something between them, this absence makes Cytharat wonder if Malgus has done his utmost to cut his old apprentice off completely. And who can blame him? After the choices that the pureblood made during several occasions, there is likely suspicion aimed at him now, perhaps feelings of betrayal. In spite of his unwillingness to turn his back on the Empire, Cytharat does not hate Malgus, nor does he disapprove of cutting their ties. It is a natural reaction.  
Besides, he should have seen the signs coming early on.  


* * *

  
_A few weeks before the announcement of the New Empire._  
_Cytharat was on the Mid Rim planet Iv-0 Sivam, some kind of world that held strategic value, due to its position in the hyperspace routes that would take the Empire closer to the other core worlds. Corellia was no longer an option that could be relied on.  
While the pureblood has never been a field general, his advice is often very valuable to those at the front, which was exactly why he was out here at the time. That planet needed to be won and his skill would make it happen._

 _As he was standing in the command center with several imperial officers and only one other Sith, a young Ensign entered, hurried up to the group and saluted._  
_“Lord Cytharat, sir! You have an incoming message. It is from Darth Malgus.”_

 _The room descended into silence as soon as their leader’s name was spoken. Not only has Malgus always been respected, but a certain fear was included in that prospect._  
_The pureblooded nodded briefly._  
_“Very well. You can assign it to one of our comm devices and I will take it from there.”_

 _The young officer shook her head._  
_“No sir, those were not my orders. The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you in private.”_

 _During that time, Cytharat had not seen his master much, other than the occasional holocall. Malgus had been very busy on other fronts and apparently was preparing some type of cooperation with other allies. Not a bad plan per se, as other factions could be very useful against the Republic, but some questioned his motives. Cytharat would never do so, obviously. He followed his master’s orders regardless, as it was what the Empire required of him._  
_That said, it had been a while since Malgus had anything important to say, that somehow demanded privacy._

_“I see. I shall take it in my office, then.”_

_“Very good, my lord. I will transfer it right away.”_

_As everyone had already heard what was said, no one protested when Cytharat bowed his head and left, headed off through the barracks, towards the small compartment where his personal office was placed. He rarely spent time in there, as it wasn’t much to look at anyhow. It was a temporary room, like most such quarters at the fronts are during war. Cytharat preferred to be among the troops or to strategize with the officers and the Sith. It is where he belongs._

_Once he stepped inside the room and looked at his holographic projector, he could see a small light blinking from the display attached to it and therefore clicked a button to complete the allocation of the call. Shortly after, the hologram of Darth Malgus appeared._  
_His master’s visage has always been intimidating, this isn’t something that Cytharat disputes. A small sense of fear has always hidden inside his heart, something he has utilized in battles before, in order to not disappoint. Passions are what Sith fight with, after all. That said, what has ruled his mindset even more is respect. Cytharat’s family taught him that one must always show deference to one’s superiors, especially other Sith, and serve them in all matters. If he becomes worthy, he might one day be given such an honor as well._

 _Almost immediately, Cytharat bowed his head._  
_“Master, I am here and alone, as requested.”_

 _“That you are”, Malgus said in his deep and somewhat distorted voice, spoken through his half-covering mask._  
_“What is the situation at your location, Cytharat? I want a tactical report.”_

 _Standing up straight again, the pureblood met his master’s gaze as well as he could._  
_“Yes, my lord._  
_For the most part, I would say that our efforts here have been rather successful. We have made strides on most fronts and are pushing the Republic back towards the northern continent. Due to the lack of orbital assistance on either side, this has given us the advantage._  
_I have to admit that there are some minor tactical elements that I would like to alter, as our assaults have slowed. The Republic has received an influx of Jedi troops, which has made our current maneuvers somewhat more ineffective. I am confident that we will be able to overtake the enemy, due to imperial tenacity, but I believe employing a measure of guile will become a crucial facet too. This is why I have requested increased black ops and Sith assassin troops.”_

 _The Dark Councilor watched him silently, only giving faint signs of interest in his eyes. He can be very patient, which is an aspect that Cytharat has always respected. Others believe he is hasty and driven to action due to impulsiveness, but those people don’t know Malgus very well. Like a clever predator, he can stalk his prey for quite some time, before he strikes._  
_“A reasonable request. If you send it to me, I shall see to it that you receive what you need. Taking that world is a priority, if we are to reach Coruscant with enough ships.”_

 _Once more, Cytharat inclined his head._  
_“Thank you, my lord. I knew you would see it my way.”_

_“And what about you? Seen any action as of late? You haven’t been at my side for quite a few weeks.”_

_And who’s fault was that? Not that Cytharat would say it out loud, but it couldn’t be denied that it wasn’t he who made himself go here. Still, he shouldn’t be ungrateful. His master trusted him and that was an element he was very thankful for._  
_“I have, though nothing extraordinary. Occasionally, the Republic attempts a counterattack or to flank us, which is when I am often sent in. I have also attended a few of the more important missions, such as when we took one of the Republic’s communication centers in the region. That slowed down their reinforcements.”_

 _There was a very brief and somewhat muffled chuckle from the large human._  
_“Well done. I knew they wouldn’t stand much chance with you present.”_

_“I do try to stay away from the absolute frontlines, however. I have to stay intact, in order to best serve my role as your tactical advisor, my lord.”_

_After he said this, Malgus nodded slowly, seemingly pondered something. It left a few seconds open before he spoke again._  
_“Indeed, you are my advisor and you have been for quite some time, haven’t you? We have been through a lot of difficulties together.”_

 _Cytharat felt a little confused about the reminiscing tone that his master used and therefore arched one of his eyebrow ridges._  
_“I…yes, my lord. Since the day you promoted me to this position. It remains my proudest moment.”_

_“I’m glad to hear it. Lately, I have been contemplating my current position in the Empire and what might happen.”_

_A rather strange line at the time. Wasn’t his position better than ever? All they had struggled to achieve was get Malgus a seat on the Dark Council and they finally had it. And yet, the Dark Lord did not sound as confident._  
_“In what way, my lord?”_

_“Well, as you might expect, being in the Dark Council is a very problematic and dangerous task. It could create certain…risky scenarios.”_

_“Risky?”_

_“You know by now that I have rivals, yes?”_

_Cytharat nodded briefly, hoping to follow the line of thinking, but still felt lost._  
_“Of course. I assume most Sith in your station do.”_

_“Quite so, and some of them may be preparing to aim for my powerbase and resources.”_

_“Are you saying that you believe these potential rivals are doing so at this time? That they will strike at you during our war?”_

_Malgus folded his arms, and with a somewhat troublesome glint in his eyes, diverted them to the side._  
_“Potentially, yes. I must always be ready for any reprisals or ambushes, which is why I have called you now.”_

 _This sounded a lot more urgent than Cytharat had initially anticipated. Were they both in danger, perhaps?_  
_“My lord?”_

_“I want to be sure that you will stand by me, Cytharat, should my position be compromised by the others in the Council. I cannot speak of them here, but there are…rumors, which have brought me into an apprehensive state.”_

_Cytharat still remembers feeling unsure, that Malgus plea was strange at the time, but not to a drastic degree. That fear may be very real and could prove fatal._  
_He bowed his head again, showing his intentions._  
_“Always, my lord. If your cause is just and you have the Empire’s best at heart, you will have my loyalty through any situation, no matter what.”_

 _His master’s eyes grew even more distant at those words._  
_“Just, you say? Hmm._  
_Thank you, that is all I needed. Continue your tasks for now, but maintain a sense of caution as well. I suspect we may witness other developments at your current post soon. You never know where they might strike first.”_  


* * *

  
That should really have been the first sign for Cytharat, the time when the treachery became as most blatant. This wasn’t how he had read it, though. Instead, he began looking past corners, expecting other Sith or imperials to stab him in the back. Such actions were always a possible outcome in the higher echelons of power within this nation, but it had never been something which he assumed would occur so soon. He had not been fearing it, not until Malgus’ warning.

For the weeks after it, he spent his spare time not just crafting tactical plans against the Republic, but also against potential inner threats. What to do when facing opposing Sith or Dark Honor guards that may stand against them or the imperial army’s movements. He tried to figure out what areas might become battlefields and suggested counteractions, as well as ideas for how to hold out as efficiently as possible for a longer period of time. If only he had known.

It almost hurts to look back on those days now, to think that he was not ready for what would occur. In a way, he was, but not that the blade would strike so closely to his heart, that he would find himself surrounded by friendly fists that tried to choke him. He did not believe that his own name would be called an enemy of the Empire and actually have justifications for it. And yet, isn’t this where he stands now?  
If only he had acted differently, seen this turn of events.  


* * *

  
_The day of the revolution._  
_The message had been sent out across the Empire, to the Republic and other areas all over the galaxy. When Cytharat saw it, at the same time as so many other people, he was shocked. He knew that his master was unusual for a Dark Councilor, that he continued the mindset of a Sith that was criticizing the seats of leadership while being among them. He was perhaps not as much of a beacon of change as Darth Imperius, but he still did not feel that the Empire was doing enough. Cytharat believed that this might lead to some interesting pathways, future missions that would define their existence differently. But this…_

 _As he stood there inside some sort of office in the outskirts of Terlo City on Dromund Kaas, he was not left alone. None of the personnel working in this build were present, but a platoon of loyal soldiers was with him. Malgus had seemingly prepared everything, thought of all the angles that would give him an advantage in this coup._  
_Cytharat hadn’t been made fully aware of why he was sent here. The message he received spoke of a mission that would be of vital importance to the survival of the Empire, so naturally, he obeyed. Now, it all began to make sense. Several weeks of actions had erupted from their shadows, to reveal their truths._

 _After it was done, the projector in the room started up, showing the image of Malgus. The entire platoon of soldiers saluted him, but Cytharat merely stood still. On the outside, one might’ve guess that the pureblood was unfazed, but in actuality, he was stunned._  
_“There you are, my former apprentice. Your moment has come, Cytharat, to join me in our glorious time of victory.”_

_“M…my lord?”, was all he could muster. It was pathetic._

_“I have placed smaller groups like this throughout the city, as well as several other strategic locations on Dromund Kaas. If you are ready and willing, I give you the ability not just to command this platoon, but the entire forces of your region. Lead them to victory in the name of the New Empire, Cytharat. Together, we can bring Dromund Kaas to its knees.”_  
_He looked at his servant, his advisor, rather intently._  
_“I trust no one else than you with this. You are my most capable advisor, my most trusted of all the Sith I have ever brought out of the Academy. No one can read the flow of battle like you. Use it now to bring this world into my grasp.”_

 _He cannot ever forget how honored he was at the time to be given such a role, such a task. That his master would entrust him with such a critical duty and give him command over large forces was something that should have elated him and driven him to do everything he could, to die in order for Malgus to succeed. If only it hadn’t been targeting Dromund Kaas._  
_He was also keenly aware that if he were to resist, these soldiers would likely attempt to shoot him._

 _Thinking his actions over, Cytharat shut his eyes and lowered his head somewhat._  
_“My lord…does this have anything to do with our conversation a few weeks back?”_

 _Malgus never even hesitated to respond._  
_“It does. But you have to see the truth now, yes? What cause is more just than the one that follows the Sith Code, our philosophy and history?”_

 _The pureblood gradually took a deep breath._  
_“But your cause will attempt to destroy the Empire from within, my home and everything I have ever fought for.”_

 _It might have been no more than a mere hologram, but Sith that have been close should still be able to sense each other’s emotions. While he concentrated, Cytharat attempted to reach out and detect his master’s reaction. There was nothing._  
_“No, not destroy, but evolve. It must grow stronger and it cannot do so under the Dark Council or the empty promises of Vitiate. I will take it to a new level, to break our limits.”_

 _Opening his eyes again, Cytharat viewed his master with a sorrowful gaze._  
_“And there is no way that I might be able to convince you otherwise?”_

 _Those words were enough to harden Malgus’ resolve. He now realized what was coming._  
_“I think you know the answer.”_

 _What followed is sort of a blur for him, as his mind was mostly focused on what this would mean for the future, for himself and the Empire. Instead of waiting for an attack, he had prepared a smoke grenade and leapt away, obscuring his position and movements._  
_Shortly after, he had begun to systematically dismantle all of this platoon, gradually and efficiently took down and killed every member of the squad that he was sent to lead and destroyed the projector in the process. Tactics was always his forte, after all, and these soldiers did not stand a chance._

 _Once it was over, he recalls dropping his weapons, sitting down on his knees and waited for authorities to find him. He knew that the Empire would not wait long. They found him, and he gave himself up immediately, surrendered. His days as a Sith was over._  


* * *

  
And now he sits here in his cell, not truly knowing what is in store. He can guess, obviously, but that is not a certainty.  
The most likely outcome is to be executed for treason. Not only was he closely associated with one of the Sith Empire’s main enemies that he was also an apprentice to, but he killed a platoon of imperial soldiers. He may claim that they belonged to Malgus, but where is his proof? No one could entirely tell, and this was crucial during the night when everything had broken apart.  
He has been sitting anxiously and waiting for answers during this time and it doesn’t seem like he’ll get them anytime soon.  
Fortunately, this day is different.

So far, he has never been allowed to leave this cell. If there’s anything they require of him, they throw it into the hatch for him to take or look at and then expect him to dispense it through the same exit. If he refuses, they can easily use the defenses embedded in the walls, which include everything from blasters to shock treatment. Cytharat has not had to endure it yet, a he follows every command, but he is also aware of their existence.

Noises can suddenly be heard from the entrance, but not the hatch. Instead, it appears that something happens to the door, which is enough to make him confused. Are they actually going to open it? That seems unlikely somehow, and yet…  
And what is that presence? He feels something through the Force, something familiar. Another Sith that he has met at some point? Could it be…?

When the thick metal door slides open, two people move inside, which he immediately identifies as powerful Sith.  
“…Darth Imperius? Miss Beniko?”

The short mirialan enters, followed by her close companion. Both of them wear uniforms, clothes that they are usually seen in during work hours and official visits. The Dark Councilor looks somewhat amused as she stops close to the opening and folds her arms.  
“Lord Cytharat. It has been a while. Do you still remember me?”

The pureblood has to wait a few seconds before he can break his shocked state and quickly lowers his head in a submissive fashion.  
“I mean no offense, but that is a ridiculous question, my lord. You are one of the leaders of our glorious Empire, and the one who approved of my master’s rise. I can never forget you.”

He doesn’t see her face from this position, but hears her snorting amusedly.  
“Good, means there’s less explaining to be done. I came here to speak about your current situation.”  
Altering his stance slightly, he notices how the Dark Councilor begins to pace across the floor.  
“You’re not doing very well, are you? You’re trapped in here, without knowledge of what occurs across the Empire, all due to your previous affiliations. It must eat at you, no? You don’t know what state your master is in, and you must be very well aware of how you can’t help him nor anyone else ever again.”

Is she attempting to goad him? It sounds like it, judging by the words and the tone as well, and yet he can’t be entirely sure. What would she even get out of such actions?  
“I do not really feel that way, my lord. In fact, I deserve this fate.”

Valcera arches her brow curiously.  
“You do?”

“Naturally. I was associated with Darth Malgus, I helped him along his path for years, offered assistance and tactical maneuvers that would benefit him, ones he’s still likely utilizing against us. I am at fault, and therefore must be punished.  
There was no other way than to give me a sentence. I have to accept it. Perhaps my involvement even merits the coming oblivion.”

Val’s expression changes into something momentarily pensive, and she glances at Lana, who shows just a little bit more eagerness.  
“I see. So, if you were to be given, let’s say, a second chance, you wouldn’t want it?”

He blinks as he watches her, starting to understand where she is leading him, but remains confused.  
“I don’t know who would grant this to me, my lord…nor why.”

“Well, it just so happens that I have an interest in getting you out of here, Cytharat.”

He widens his eyes.  
“You, my lord? Why?”

“Because I have need of you.”

“But…I am traitor.”

He glances sideways when Lana shakes her head.  
“Wrong. You _served_ a traitor, but that does not make you one. Not if you have refused to set your allegiance to him. We require someone with your mindset, skills and knowledge. It is very likely that there are other traitors out there, lurking among our ranks, and someone must help us root them out.  
After it is done, there is a possibility that we will need you in the war against Malgus. Who would know him better, after all?”

He tries to absorb all of their words, the underlying implications, and despite the interest, he feels unsure.  
“But, what about my sentence?”

Valcera shrugs.  
“We’ll get rid of it and replace the prison with servitude.  
You will atone for your master’s mistakes by aiding the Empire and proving your worth. You will redeem your name and help us to recover, so that we can undo Malgus’ mistakes. That should be enough, don’t you think?”

This feels almost like a dream. Or maybe a mocking nightmare? This is surely something that he would yearn for, which is why it seems too good to be true.  
Slowly and carefully, he stands up, facing them both. They are still here, so at least he’s not hallucinating. Therefore, he bows once more.  
“This chance you are giving me is…unexpected, my lord. But I thank you greatly for the opportunity. Both of you.”

Lana displays a smile for him.  
“No need. I already know of your prowess and how beneficial you will be for our future.”

“And I trust Lana”, Val admits. “So, does this mean you accept?”

Cytharat stands taller and looks directly into the mirialan’s eyes.  
“I do, my lord. I will make sure that my master’s damage is undone, even if it kills me in the process.”


	18. A lesson once taught

It’s been a while since Zal’riva was in a location that wasn’t somehow surrounded by war. She has visited calmer places during the last several months, of course, and she isn’t constantly fighting, but most of the areas where she roams are ones haunted by the idea that war is coming or have ties to it. It’s what she realizes when she’s on the Tempest, on Dromund Kaas, even more so on the fleets when she assists Marr and the Ministry of War.

Perhaps that’s why she took the invitation to Ziost once it was sent, despite a certain reluctance. It’s not as if she dislikes this world or anything, but the wording of the offer itself was…doubtful. Not to mention who it was sent from.  
Zal likes Vowrawn, based on what he has done for her and how they interact, but she believes she is meant to. He is very charismatic, likely on purpose and she has always figured that there lies a less pleasant figure underneath. He hasn’t maintained a top rank at his age for no reason, after all, and if he believed it to be beneficial, she doesn’t doubt that he’d probably betray her.

Zal remember a discussion she had with Valcera in the not-too-distant past, regarding the Dark Council. The mirialan described similar thoughts about Vowrawn, and even if the old man is cordial, she would never work with him without certain guarantees.  
It is quite intriguing how Val mentioned that the two people she actually trusts the most is Acina, followed by Marr. She admitted that she doesn’t really like Marr much, as he’s ‘a bit of a self-important arse’, as she put it, but Val knows that she can trust Marr to do what’s best for the Empire. With Vowrawn, it’s…not quite as clear. Zal agreed.

So, why then did she accept Vowrawn’s invitation? Especially since it told her to come alone, not to bring any of her companions. At least not down to the surface. Technically, she is the Emperor’s Wrath and can do whatever she wants with that plea, but she didn’t wish to be rude, create potential enemies.  
Well, it’s not like Zal expects the old man to attack her, as that would be foolish at this time, when she is very much needed for imperial survival. She is one of the most powerful Sith in this era, no one can deny that, and she inspires many imperials to follow her lead.  
There is also the aspect that Vowrawn told her he had something very special in mind and despite feeling uncertain what that could mean, she was too curious to not look into it.

After she enters the structure belonging to the Sphere of Production and Logistics within New Adasta, she runs into the personnel that work not too far outside of Vowrawn’s office. Behind one of the desks closest to it sits a female pureblood, and there are several guards and other administration staff being busy with their duties as well. As soon as they see Zal entering, most of them stand up, and united with the soldiers, they salute.  
“L-Lord Wrath!”, the pureblood exclaims. “What can we do for you, my lord?”

Zal glances around at them, folds her arms, but also raises a hand casually.  
“At ease. I’m looking for Vowrawn. He called me here for a meeting.”

The other woman gazes down at the terminal on her desk, seemingly browsing some information. Vowrawn’s assistant, perhaps?  
“Oh, yes, of course. He had it scheduled.  
He is not in his office, though. It appears he wanted you to meet two floors up, room 37-CA. He’s waiting there.”

Not in his office? What is the old man planning? And why couldn’t he just meet her here and take her up? Oh well, perhaps it doesn’t matter.  
“Fine. Thank you for your assistance.”

“It was our pleasure, my lord”, she says and bows. Several of the other people within the room mirrors her movement. “Come back if there is anything else you require.”

She takes the elevator up and wanders through the corridors until she reaches the correct location. When the automated doors slide open for her, she spots Vowrawn sitting inside a room that she would assume is intended for relaxation. There’s a few sofas, some game devices, a music player, a mini-bar and more. On the seats, he is not alone, as he is accompanied by a few individual that he seems to be having a casual discussion with. As soon as Zal enters, though, this activity stops.

“Ah, Wrath, there you are”, he comments with a rather pleased tone. He then glances at the rest of his company.  
“We will have to continue this at another time. The matter I spoke of shall have to be dealt with now.”

He gestures with his hand for them to leave and everyone stands up, walking past Zal, but each of them bows before they depart. She didn’t recognize anyone, but she can assume it was some members of his Sphere.  
“Throwing a party while the rest of your people are working hard?”

She can see how Vowrawn pushes a button on a device, before he stands up to meet with her in the center of the room.  
“Not at all, my dear. I merely wished to discuss a few crucial concerns that my colleagues had in a more relaxed setting. Nothing wrong with such choices, is there?”

“Depends on the circumstances, I guess.”

“At any rate, it is good to see that you’re doing well. How have the frontlines been treating you?”

Zal folds her arms and considers his question. Probably nothing more than polite small talk, as she is pretty sure that he already knows what she’s doing. Then again, he wouldn’t know her emotional state.  
“The situation has definitely not been unproblematic, but it does feel good to fight for a worthy cause. Despite working for Baras in the past, I was never much in favor of starting this war. I merely did what was asked of me. Now, at least I get to defend the Empire from our enemies, rather than assault them.”  
She furrows her brow for a moment, considering if she should mention one more angle.  
“And then there is the matter of Marr, of course. He can be quite…tiresome. I know he cares about the Empire, but he constantly questions me and makes my life difficult.”

Vowrawn lips curl into a smirk.  
“Oh, I know what you mean. I have spent a lot of time with him over the years and he can be quite a handful. That said, if you wish, I might be able to teach you some tricks and insights, in order to effectively tackle some of his arguments.”

This isn’t exactly news, as Zal has heard even more stuff from Val, regarding the close connection that Vowrawn and Marr apparently shares. Not what she would’ve expected when she aided the old man over a year ago.  
“That would be appreciated. Not that I’m afraid of facing him in a debate, but I’d rather not have him deliberately attempt to sabotage or humiliate me in public.”

The pureblood chuckles.  
“Not to worry. If you have some time later, I can teach you everything I know regarding his behavior and mannerisms. When we’re done, he will have no choice but to listen to you and every conversation will go in your favor.”

Probably an exaggeration, but some advice is definitely better than none.  
“It should at least surprise him, which is enough to satisfy me.”

“Splendid. I look forward to this opportunity, then.  
For now, though, I believe it’s best if we focus on the matter at hand. As amusing as it is to discuss our dear head of Defense together, it is not what I called you here for. There is a purpose behind this visit.”  
She sees how he glances around her for a moment. Not surveying her specifically, but her surroundings.  
“I have noticed that your side seems rather…empty as of late. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Zal snorts.  
“Well, if I recall correctly, you asked me to leave my friends elsewhere.”

“Hah! True enough, but it is not quite what I meant.  
You have subordinates that you value and maintain a close connection to, but you no longer have a Sith companion, yes?  
You promoted miss Willsaam, did you not? Or perhaps I should call her Lord Willsaam now.”

Did he call her to talk about Jaesa? Zal instinctively feels how her internal defensive mechanisms ignite. They likely won’t be needed, but she is always prepared to extinguish any damage aimed at her former apprentice.  
“I did, several months ago. After all she had done for the Empire and for me, I believed she deserved it.”

“Certainly, I do not dispute this action. In fact, I endorse your choice, but that is not my point.  
What I’m trying to say is that there’s a gap in others' service to you, our great Lord Wrath. You don’t have an apprentice anymore, do you? Most Sith in your position should have at least one at all times.  
I realize you are not a member of the Dark Council and politics is not your foremost concern, but it cannot be denied that you are a Sith of substantial power, of significance and respect.”

Zal arches her brow, finding this angle quite strange. He’s concerned that she doesn’t have an apprentice? Why?  
“I don’t seek to gain a large powerbase, Vowrawn. Never have and never will.”

“Not a surprise, per se, but there are other reasons to have apprentices, no? Don’t you wish to train and enhance the younger generations, to help them follow in your footsteps? You are still very young yourself, of course, but you have a lot of experience.  
Do you not have an interest in aiding the Sith evolve? I believe that was part of your initial speech to us, after you defeated your old master.”

She hesitates. Technically, there is nothing wrong with this mindset, but she doesn’t know how she feels about getting another apprentice. Taking on Jaesa was sort of…a spur of the moment decision. Besides, she had followed the former padawan for quite some time, learned to appreciate and understand her. There was a bond created between them almost before they even met. To take on someone new just like that, would it really be possible?

“That’s…not quite what I said, but I suppose I don’t see anything wrong with this perspective.”

Vowrawn’s smile brightens.  
“Very good! And convenient as well. I have taken the liberty to look through the available acolytes in the Korriban Academy at this time, to arrange one for you already.”

Zal suddenly widen her eyes, feeling a combination of fear and distress.  
“You’ve-…what?!”

“Don’t worry, I decided to interview some of your companions first, especially young Willsaam. I also studied much of your own history at the Academy, to see what type of acolyte would suit you best.”

Has he been snooping into her background? And asked her friends about her too? This…is not something that she would deem to be okay. She knew she shouldn’t have come here.  
“That’s-…Vowrawn! You can’t just-“

“Too late”, he interrupts her. "It’s already done.”  
He then turns towards the door and raises his voice.  
“Acolyte, you may enter!”

Suddenly, she realizes what the button Vowrawn pressed earlier likely did, as the front door to the room now opens up again and someone steps inside.  
A young man walks into the room, likely no older than her. There is something immediate which is very hard not to notice – the dark blue skin and the red slightly glowing eyes. A chiss? Not who she had expected to see entering this room. The shade is similar to Ktila’s as well, but his hair is black instead and shaped into a more stylish look.  
Currently, he’s wearing a long purple coat and some grey clothes underneath, without any armor. His height is fairly average, which means he’s definitely shorter than Zal. His build is clearly toned, but not as muscular as the twi’lek either.  
After a second or two, Zal also realizes that he’s quite hard to read. His appearance is calm and unfazed, and he’s not letting any of his emotions go astray, seeming to be in control of himself. He stops not too far from them both, and then bows his head respectfully.

Vowrawn seems quite pleased that Zal’s demeanor has been infused with some interest now, despite still being fairly shocked and almost offended that he would toss something like this at her.  
“Introduce yourself, acolyte”, says the Councilor.

“Csapla’kore’Vhako, core name ‘Lakorev’, my lord. Most prefer that one. Easier to pronounce”, the young man tells them in an imperial accent. His voice is quite smooth and composed, like most chiss Zal has encountered. His stance isn’t all too rigid, though, and the clothes he wears aren’t exactly the standard uniform.

After taking a deep breath, Zal arches her brow somewhat.  
“I will admit, I am intrigued. Where did you find him?”, she asks Vowrawn.

“In the Academy, of course”, he responds. “He recently managed to pass most of his trials and I paid him a visit. I feared that some insignificant Lord may try to snatch him, so I decided to act quickly. I realized he would be better in someone else’s care, but I took him out of there, gave him his lightsaber. I believe the task of guiding him should fall to you.”

She views her fellow Sith skeptically.  
“Feels a bit…unorthodox.”

“It is, but you don’t disapprove, do you? Isn’t that your forte, after all, dear Wrath?”

Well, he’s got her there. How would she even argue against this, despite a certain sense of discomfort? Most of her doubts are probably lingering due to the fact that this chiss is not Jaesa. But who can ever compare themselves to her?  
“…fair enough.  
Lakorev, was it? Were you born in chiss space?”

He has stood back up by now and angles his eyes towards her.  
“Yes, my lord, on a world called Cioral.”

“Hmm, never been there.”

“A shame, it’s a very pleasant place. It’s filled with urban landscapes, with much administration being conducted on the surface, especially for the colonies. One of the most efficient planets in the Ascendancy.  
I would offer to invite you on vacation to it, but I’m afraid they’d likely rebuff us both, my lord.”

Zal looks even more curious now. Was it just her, or did the underlying tone he used have a bit of humor? It’s not like chiss can’t be funny, which is something she knows after having spent so much time with Ktila, but her girlfriend wasn’t even born in the Ascendancy.  
“Oh? How so?”

“Well, mostly because the Ascendancy doesn’t much appreciate Force users. They don’t trust us.”

“And yet they work with Sith?”

“Naturally. It’s a strategically sound decision, my lord. Having to fight the Empire’s invasion would have cost them a lot of resources and manpower. I never said my people weren’t smart.”

He’s not wrong, per se, although the Republic would probably not agree with such a conclusion.  
“How did you come to join the Sith? I wasn’t aware that our two factions had some type of agreement in this area.”

“Technically, they don’t.  
Obviously, I was born in the Ascendancy, where they have quite different views on how to handle Force sensitives. There is no real established chiss ‘Force Order’, similar to the Sith or the Jedi. Everyone is expected to serve the Ascendancy in the same way, to be a benefit to our people. They don’t share your ideas of currencies or power structures, nor the Republic's notions of freedom. Everything is done in the name of the Ascendancy, to improve and preserve it. Loyalty is absolute.  
That said, Force users are – in general – a chaotic element in this calculation. Our emotions and minds can create power which go beyond normal citizens. With the right application, we can create disorder or even control other people. This is a matter that most chiss see as a problem. In the past, those sensitive to the Force have been hidden away, imprisoned or learned to either control or suppress their powers, as to not be a burden.”

And she thought being Sith was hard. The chiss seem even more rigid and suspicious of her kind. But, then again, with all the damage that people like her – or people like Vitiate – can and has done, perhaps it’s justified to some extent?  
“So, they sent you away?”

“Precisely. Once my people allied with the Empire, they saw an opportunity for me to be delivered to the Sith, rather than having to take care of me themselves. I was very young when I arrived, but I have been here ever since.”

“And your parents were fine with this?”

Lakorev offers her a polite smile.  
“You don’t know much about chiss society, do you?”

Zal shrugs.  
“Other than the basics, no. Like I said, I’ve never been there, and I’ve only ever dealt with members of the Ascendancy on places like Hoth.”

“We do spend time with our parents, but the attachment to them is not as strong as it is in the Empire or the Republic. We give everything for the enhancement of the Ascendancy and therefore the raising of children has a more communal aspect. If my parents cared that I was to be sent away, they neither expressed it nor showed any indications for it.”

Zal has to admit that it does sound quite sad, but then again, she can’t remember ever having parents, so it’s hard to relate.  
“You’ve been here for many years then?”

“Indeed. My superiors in the Ascendancy knew that Force sensitives should be taught at an early age and therefore sent me to the Sith academies to gain proper schooling.”

“So, your entire education was conducted in the Empire?”

“Yes. I have received all information that the overseers felt were necessary that I know. As I am not human or pureblood, it was quite a strict childhood, but I was tolerated. There are some groups of so-called ‘aliens’, who are not enslaved and therefore can be taught. I spent parts of my time with a few miraluka and zabrak, for example.  
Well, ‘were’, I should say. In recent years, I’ve heard how the foundations of the Empire’s slavery tradition is being dismantled, much due to yours and Darth Imperius’ efforts, apparently.”

The twi’lek nods slowly, having heard of a similar element.  
“We do our best, to help the Empire evolve.  
But you have not had any masters?”

“Other than the overseers? No. Darth Vowrawn brought me out of the Academy, which I am thankful for, but he made it clear that he will not be teaching me.”

Vowrawn appears mildly amused.  
“No need to thank me, young man. I was honored to bring someone so talented out before a fool could get ahold of you.”

Zal surveys the man once more, and she briefly wonders if he is really the type of person she’s been looking for.  
“Do you realize what the role of the Emperor’s Wrath is?”

Lakorev nods briefly.  
“I believe so. You’re the Wrath of the Emperor incarnate, his enforcer and sometimes executioner. I’ve also heard how you are supposed to personify the determination of the Empire.  
Basically, the Dark Council can’t touch you.”

On their side, Vowrawn clears his throat.  
“Well…with some limitations.”

Zal, on the other hand, smirks.  
“No no, he has a good point. I believe you are quite aware of my situation then, acolyte.  
However, joining me will be a difficult duty. Much will be expected of you, just as it was from Jaesa, my former apprentice.”

“I understand”, Lakorev says, not surrendering any misgivings, if he even has any.

“You already know the basics of being Sith, so your training shall not be the same as before. You will have to be ready to perform any task I require of you and follow my orders. You are to be my shadow and extend the reach of the Emperor’s Wrath.”

“Of course, master. I am ready to serve you in all matters. I have been told what the role of an apprentice is and when they informed me who I would serve, I simply upped my expectations a tad.”

He doesn’t show hesitation or fights with her at any step, so she can’t say that she’s feeling particularly averse to a potential partnership. Obviously, she still needs to test him, but that can come later.  
“Very well. Is there anything else you believe I should know before we begin? We will have time to talk later, but you may speak now if there is something else you find important.”

Lakorev ponders the inquiry for a few moments, trying to see if there is something he may have missed.  
“Hmm. Well, I’m ambidextrous, very much enjoy seafood, prefer late nights before early days, can’t get up without a cup of caf – preferably unaltered – in the morning, never been much for cantina music really, and I believe our last Wrath was an exceedingly dashing man. A shame about the treachery.”  
He says all of this with a rather straight face, but Zal can still hear the hints of humor beneath the serenity again.  
“Oh, and my favorite color is purple.”

Not being able to hold it in, Zal tilts her head back and laughs. Shortly after, she glances at the Councilor.  
“I can see why you recruited him now.”

Vowrawn seems both amused and pleased.  
“Did I not tell you that he would suit your personality?”

Zal smirks and then strides up to the chiss, patting his shoulder.  
“I believe we shall get along just fine, apprentice.”

Lakorev inclines his head, doing his best to hide his smile.  
“I am here to serve you, master, in whatever capacity you see fit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Like a bunch of my OCs, Lakorev can be viewed[in my character list](https://creativebankruptcy.tumblr.com/swtor). He's going to be involved mostly as a secondary characters, but yeah, there are some interesting stuff to do with him later on._


	19. To comprehend a shadow

During the year or two that Scourge has spent with the current crew he’s in, it has been quite rare to see him be very active. It’s not that he considers the Shielded Path to be a bad or particularly uninteresting ship, nor does he like to stay much in one place, but he has sort of been forced to.  
Much of his concentration and attention has to be focused on keeping his senses sharp and his power directed towards handling any of Vitiate’s tricks. He is very well aware of what his friends in the past had to deal with – especially Raekah – and he does not wish to become a victim to any of his old master’s mind games.

The reason he’s heading towards the room where all of the training equipment is stored in, is obviously due to the owner of the ship. What other reason would Scourge have to go anywhere? Ktila’s words have an unsettling power over him, without even trying.  
Once he enters this area, he already knows that Ktila is waiting inside, but he had not anticipated the other sights. All of the gear and furniture have been pushed to the walls, leaving quite an open area in the middle for some unknown purpose. Ktila apparently needs space for something.

Ktila is currently sitting in her training outfit – a white tank top, tight black pants and thin red shoes. Her expression is distant and contemplative, as if she’s not quite present, which he finds curious. It’s rare for them to be in here together, which obviously confuses the Sith.  
“I’m here. Why did you call for me?”

The Jedi raises her red eyes and views him silently for a few moments, before she pushes herself up onto her feet.  
“I want to spar with you.”

Scourge arches one of his eyebrow tendrils skeptically.  
“Spar? Really?"

“Yes. Unless you don’t think you can handle it.”

Is that a challenge? She doesn’t sound as competitive as Kira might do sometimes, but he wouldn’t dismiss the possibility.  
“Trying to goad me into it?”

She stares at him for a moment or two before she diverts her eyes.  
“I…need something to distract myself with, after what happened at the Dark Temple.”

“I’m sure Kira would be happy to indulge you.”

“I know, but I’m too used to her abilities. I want someone tougher to fight.”  
Well, he can’t argue with that, even if he now feels like she’s trying to manipulate him by working on his ego instead. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to throw away a chance to accept a request from Ktila. This is why he shrugs and heads towards the rack with training sabers. He never actually makes it the whole way, though.  
“No, not that kind of sparring”, she says and puts her hand on one of the lightsabers that she has left on a table. “We’re going with the real deal.”

Suddenly, he feels a whole lot less confident in this proposition and folds his arms skeptically.  
“You want to spar using our deadliest weapons? I would not advice doing so with me.”

Ktila snorts in return.  
“Don’t give me that. I’ve defeated you once, Scourge. I can do it again.”

“And what makes you think I gave all that I had in our last duel? I didn’t want you dead.”

“If you didn’t, feel free to tell me the truth right now. Were you holding back?”

Scourge does not respond, not with words anyhow. Instead, he grabs the hilt hanging from his belt and pulls it out, igniting the glowing red weapon almost immediately when it reaches his fingers. What is mildly interesting with her choice, however, is that she decides to go with only one. He knows that she’s ambidextrous and tends to fight with both of her sabers in almost any fight that she ends up it. Apparently, she doesn’t need to at this time.

Shortly after, they both get into their stances, with Ktila slowly swaying her blade from side to side, while Scourge holds his own in the direction of the ground, waiting. He expects her to rush him, but no such thing happens. Instead, she gestures with her hand for him to come at her and he decides to oblige.  
Scourge is not a swift fighter, but an assault from him can still be deadly for those who allow him the advantage. He swings his blade in a sideways slash, which Ktila easily ducks beneath, in order to get behind him. Once she’s in position, she delivers a strike right to his back, but he’s ready for it and has already turned his blade to deflect her attack.

Scourge swirls around, having to block several swift impacts that follow the first, their blades almost being joined in a dance that they both know the steps to. When he sees the opportunity, he lifts his hand and pushes her back with the Force.  
Ktila slides against the floor, almost falling, but she manages to use her agility to flip around and get back onto her feet. Always the acrobat. Scourge tests her own defenses here, but compared to him, she doesn’t need to actually parry every swing, as she has enough speed to dodge a few as well.

After this first – and fairly light – session is done, Ktila obtains some distance and starts to circle him, constantly watching his movement.  
“You mind if I ask you something about Vitiate?”, she says, her breathing being only a little bit sharper than before.

Scourge remains steadfast and shrugs.  
“If you wish.”

“In the past, you’ve told me that you spent 300 years in Vitiate’s service. How well did you get to know the Emperor personally?”

The Sith looks confused at the question.  
“Define ‘personally’.”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Do you know Vitiate’s interests, opinions, what he likes or dislikes to eat etcetera?”

Now that’s something he’s pretty sure they’ve never discussed before. He scowls towards her and shrugs.  
“Not really, no. Does it matter?”

“So, you’re saying that you didn’t know him personally, then?”

Scourge sighs.  
“Vitiate is not a person like you and I, Ktila. He’s an entity, a being consumed by the dark side. If he ever was a person, this aspect of him is long gone.”

“But it doesn’t actually answer my question.”

Before he can protest any further, she utilizes the Force to pick up some kind of plastic box nearby and tosses it right at him. Is she trying to insult him? He raises his weapon and easily slices it in half. Maybe she won’t like that, but she shouldn’t have thrown it at him in the first place.  
Shortly after, he spots how another item comes flying, but this time being one of the exercise weights. Instead of taking this thing on with his weapon, he ducks beneath it.

“Cease this nonsense. Are we sparring or dueling?”

He receives his response soon after, as he notices how she has already closed the distance between them. She is somewhat crouched, which is a position she uses to deliver a low strike. Thankfully, he’s swift enough to get his weapon down to block her off at the last second. Would she have tried to aim for his feet?  
In a small fit of anger, he lashes out at her, trying to hit her side, but she dodges away from it. Two more slashes afterwards miss as well. Scourge is suddenly reminded of how quick she can be. He recalls their fight in the Emperor’s sanctum, and how that was never an easy battle. He didn’t want her dead, but he still had to provide resistance to make it look real. In the end, he practically gave everything he had anyhow, in order to survive.

For half a minute or so, she uses a rather strange pattern, where she gets some distance, then rushes into his side, aiming at his flank. Each strike is swift and accurate, even if he manages to get away from them, but it is unnerving to see, as it’s never clear until close to the last moment where exactly she’s aiming. He also unsure why she’s doing it, because none of the swing have much power behind them, nor do they strike at any vital spots. Is she testing him? Toying with him?  
He feels an adverse sensation at the thought of hurting her, even if he knows she’s capable. This is why he has mostly focused on his defenses…for now.

She eventually retreats again, letting him remain in his position as a monolithic bulwark.  
“You didn’t hold back in his fortress, I know that much, but you are now”, she tells him.

“I use the skills I find suitable for the fight at hand.”

Ktila snorts and shakes her head, before she switches subject.  
“I wanted to know about the incarnations of the Emperor. Are there other ones?”

Scourge nods curtly.  
“Of course, as you should already know. I have given you all the information I had on them.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’ve told me about the Hand, the Voice, the Children and the Imperial Guard, but I’m wondering if there are more than that. His powerbase is big, right? Does he have more subordinates, more roles in the same pattern?”

An interesting question, certainly, though one that he finds strange too. Why would that be important?  
“None that are in use right now, as far as I know.”

“Has there ever been any?”

“From what certain historical texts in the Empire’s records claim, yes, there has. I have not witnessed them myself, but I know there were supposedly some servants of note, other aspects of his being, to extend his reach.”

“Such as?”

Scourge takes a deeper breath, as he tries to dig into his memories. It has been a while since he last did something like this. He has been too focused on containing Vitiate in the last century or so, keep him occupied.  
“At one point, there was apparently one called the ‘Emperor’s Eye’, some kind of spy figure. I believe there also used to be a battle commander known to some as the ‘Emperor’s Beacon’.  
Neither of these ranks have been utilized in centuries, however. I’ve only seen them mentioned in documents.”

“You think they could be alive still? Or some other ones you don’t know of?”

He shrugs.  
“Possibly? I should have heard of it, in that case, but I don’t claim to be all-knowing. I wouldn’t put it past him to attempt to deceive me as well.”

Apparently, that’s all the questions Ktila had on that subject and her eyes quickly sweep the room, looking for something to do. She locks them at one of the larger training machines that stands by the wall, and by using the Force, she lets it slide in the air towards him. This act definitely surprises Scourge, and he knows he won’t be able to dodge it. Cutting it down seems unwise, so instead, he wields the Force to stop its speed before it reaches him.

“What are you trying to do? This is not what I would call-“

However, she’s already gone from the spot where he last saw her and it’s not until a second or two later that he notices how she is running up along the opposite wall, using it to launch her strike from a higher altitude. If her attacks in the last round were fairly meagre, this one is not, as he actually slides backwards somewhat when he blocks the high swing.  
He doesn’t quite know why, but he is suddenly being reminded of someone else – Meetra Surik. The speed and agility she displays are making him remember the few sparring sessions he tried with that Jedi. The resemblance in the movement is almost startling.

“I thought Jedi were supposed to be serene. You fight with passion right now.”

After she drops down, she spins around and slashes at him over and over, forcing him to retreat. When she speaks, she sounds surprisingly composed.  
“Not really, but I’m also not a Jedi anymore. I just wish to make sure that the old Wrath is still in shape.”

Scourge frowns. So, she really is testing him, is she? If that’s the case, perhaps he should prove that he has grown no weaker during the time they’ve spent away from the war.  
He knocks her away using the Force once more, hoping to stun her somewhat, but this time he does not wait. Instead, he follows the wave and unleashes a series of intense lightsaber attacks at her, forcing her to get on the defensive.

He manages to drive her back, away from the center of the room. Evasion and speed, her two foremost advantages, are abilities she now has to push closer to their limits, so that she won’t get cornered. It pleases him quite severely that she’s so surprised by his eruption. Did she assume he would hold back forever?  
In order to maintain the even level of this fight, Ktila is forced to end her game and therefore pulls the other lightsaber to her, drawing both of them. One might assume that wielding two weapons simultaneously is somehow more difficult, but it seems to be the opposite for Ktila. Now that she can utilize both hands, her parries are more efficient, and she manages to regain her balance. Not that Scourge minds – the more complicated it gets, the more entertaining the fight.

Eventually, she jumps away, likely wanting to talk once more. Scourge almost considers not allowing her this reprieve, to charge at her again, but if she has questions, he feels compelled to respond.  
“Not bad”, she states, her breathing somewhat heavier than before.

Even he is not completely unfazed this time.  
“You’re not speaking to one of your padawans, Ktila.”

She arches her eyebrow amusedly.  
“You could be, if you let me.”

He waves his weapon dismissively.  
“As if. Dream on, Jedi.”

Ktila shrugs, not all that bothered by his refusal. It’s not like the request was serious. No, it’s pretty clear what she’s curious about.  
“You know, there’s something I’ve been wondering. Did Vitiate ever talk about sharing his power?”

“Sharing? Well, he did implement a small piece of his essence into each of his servants. All of them, I believe, in order to keep track of us.”

The chiss shakes her head.  
“Not what I meant. I realize that all of his servants were connected to him, through both blood and the Force, but what I’m talking about is deeper than that. Is there anyone he ever discussed sharing his power with, letting them have some of his strength and abilities? Has that ever happened?  
He gave you immortality, but only to trap you, to make you a part of him, be his slave. Sharing would instead imply surrendering some of that power to someone else, while still maintaining two separate entities.”

It’s not just the words, but the very concept itself, which seems to make Scourge completely confused.  
“What? That’s…a ridiculous notion. You realize we’re speaking of Vitiate here, yes? I’m skeptical whether ‘sharing’ is a term that he actually understands.  
Even if he had considered it at some point, I sincerely doubt there has ever existed someone that he finds worthy.”

“Hmm. Didn’t you say he was planning to do something to Raekah at some point?”

“Yes, to use her as his next Voice, but not to share his power. That is something completely separate.”

“How do you know for sure?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but hesitates. Is this the whole ‘knowing him personally’ thing again? Is this where it concludes?  
“I guess no one can.”

“Exactly.”

Before he has a chance to object, he notes how she quickly gets into another stance and rushes at him. No, not this time. He won’t let her constantly dominate this fight.  
Controlling the Force, he grabs ahold of one of the lamps on the roof and forcibly pulls it off the top, in order to come crashing down. Ktila manages to dodge the attack, just in time, but she doesn’t look particularly pleased.

“Scourge!”, she exclaims with an added sigh. “Don’t tear my ship apart!”

He doesn’t stop to argue this subject. She wanted a fight, so he’s giving it to her.  
When he reaches her location, he begins to swing much more wildly than before, not particularly aiming at anything other than her general position. He feels how power begins to surge into him, infusing his body with a thrilling amount of energy. He can’t deny that he’s excited to be in a proper duel again. This is where he’s at his best. Despite having served Vitiate unwillingly, he can’t deny how satisfying it was to constantly be sent to fight tough opponents.

Ktila is not ignorant of this development, obviously having noticed what she has pulled forth from Scourge. She tries to regain her composure, realizing she must focus in order to quell some of his emotions. She cannot let them overwhelm her.  
For now, she lets him drive the duel, resorting to block off what she can, while utilizing the terrain to her advantage. She leaps over tables and training gear, putting something between them to get out of range. Occasionally, she launches items at him again, which he either deflects or destroys. She doesn’t specifically counterattack, not yet, as she likely searches for the perfect moment.

Scourge won’t pretend like it’s not a little annoying to fight someone like Ktila. He rarely gets a proper hit in, and she’s fairly decent at distracting him, preventing some of the more effective attacks. It’s quite likely that she knows him too well to open up for a scenario where they only battle it out with strikes and parries, because it’s one that she would lose – unless it’s to the death - so she has to trick him into the position where she wants him.  
Unfortunately, despite his skill, Scourge can’t say that he’s particularly adept at tactics during combat, which is why he knows she’ll eventually outmaneuver him, no matter how much he struggles. She was the Jedi Supreme Commander once, after all.

The end arrives when she suddenly tosses something right into his face, which happens to be nothing more than water. She splashes it onto him, letting it reach his eyes, which isn’t enough to take him down, but certainly enough to startle.  
She slashes her sabers in his direction, which he only barely deflects. Eventually, he has lost sight of her, as she tries to use the furniture nearby in order to jump up and leap right at him. She practically lands in his arms, which shocks him even further, briefly lowering his guard. That is her moment.

She uses the advantage to kick the weapon out of his hand, and before he has a chance to grab her, she employs the Force to knock him right into a nearby wall. He slams into it rather hard, but not enough to actually do much damage to him. It doesn’t have to.  
When he next opens his eyes, he sees and hears how the blue and green lightsabers are held over his throat in a crossed fashion. Whether it was Ktila’s intention or not is hard to say, but a flashback momentarily obscures his eyes. The vision of two humans, and the sight of both a purple and a silver blade held at his throat, makes for a terrifyingly similar sensation.

They disperse shortly after, as soon as Ktila speaks.  
“Done?”

He looks into Ktila’s determined eyes, completely fixated on him. She likely wants to make sure he isn’t going to have an outburst.  
“…I yield.”

“I know.”  
She steps back, lowers and disengages her weapons, putting them back onto her belt. She pulls his saber to her as well, shuts it off and tosses the hilt to him. He only barely catches it.  
“One last question. Were you ever aware of Vitiate having any other kind of powerbases? Homes of some sort?”

If he was only slightly affected earlier, he’s certainly panting now. He isn’t sure whether it was due to the duel or the vision of the past.  
“Homes? I…he has other bases, yes.”

“Yeah, but-…okay, not powerbases, but factions. Do you know if he ever constructed any other nations like the Sith Empire?”

Scourge raises his hand in order to wipe some of the water off his face.  
“Why does that matter?”

“Answer the question.”

He sighs, realizing that she’s not going to let him go until he responds truthfully.  
“Not as far as I’m aware. It’s quite a momentous task, even for him. It would be too much waste of time, I believe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Vitiate is powerful, clever, resourceful, but having multiple factions active, while operating them separately? I don’t think he would take that risk. It might go completely wrong.”  
Ktila lets her eyes drift off elsewhere after the response, looking thoughtful somehow. It spurs Scourge to continue.  
“Why are you asking so much about him, Ktila? What happened to you down at the temple?”

She shares a brief look with him, before she turns on her heel and approaches the exit.  
“Good fight. You have a few techniques you may need to work on. You also have to learn to control your passions. Zal could maybe give you a few hints.”

_“Ktila.”_

“I’m going for a shower and some lunch. Clean up this mess, will you?”

She walks off without giving him another word. It makes him sigh, almost in frustration. Suddenly, he somehow understands what it’s like for her whenever he refuses to explain one of his secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I think I've mentioned it before, but Scourge does have a certain affection for Ktila. Her appearance has been on his mind for like, 300 years, so it isn't too strange for him to have been drawn to it. He knows it is not mutual, though._   
>  _The "silver and purple blades" thing is a reference to my post-Kotor fic, Visions of devastation. You can read that if you want to see the scenario where it happened. Not important, just flavor. Ktila does constantly remind him of Raekah and Meetra._


	20. Cipher's avenue

The war against Malgus have created a lot of new situations for the Empire. Some of these circumstances have ended up being positive for them, in order to adapt and evolve into a new reality. For example, slowly and efficiently, Valcera has been trying to tear apart the old slavery institutions, especially in Dromund Kaas, to instead allow these people to work for the Empire as citizens and give them a better life. The possibility for her to shatter the entire concept is still a distant goal, but Lana knows that her girlfriend is working on this too. It’s one of the few subjects outside of her own Sphere that she will fight against endlessly.

One of the several slightly less enjoyable results of the war has been the fact that Lana doesn’t get many chances to spend any time in Val’s office together with the Councilor. It’s not like she hasn’t tried to, but it’s been several weeks since their last encounter in there and most days, both of them are very busy with their abundance of tasks. In fact, Val is often not even inside the Citadel, as her presence is required for various stabilizing factors around the planet. At least the stress is somewhat abating.  
Lana can’t complain all too much, though. In the past, work was one of the few places that they had time to meet, but now that they live together, they see each other later in the day. It's one of the blessings that she treasures.

Today is one of the few special days when she’ll actually be able to see Val earlier, though. Not because she intends to enter the office out of her own choice, but because Val has summoned her. Apparently, there was something specific the Councilor wanted to chat about, but she couldn’t say what. It was a subject that couldn’t be handled in public, though, which intrigues Lana. They have shared many secrets before, but she can’t figure out what this would involve. Val isn’t working on another new crazy mission, is she? Lana would prefer not to have her girlfriend be threatened by more assassins, angry ghosts, ancient deadly devices, Sith rivals etc.

As Francine allows her to go inside, she spots Val sitting behind her desk and the Councilor looks rather busy with both a terminal and some kind of device lying close to it. The mirialan doesn’t even look up after Lana has stepped past the entrance. Perhaps she’ll need to get the attention on her own.  
“You wanted to talk?”

Val nods and gestures with her hand for Lana to continue.  
“Yes, come inside. Oh, and lock the door behind you.”

The advisor looks a little bit confused. Did Val have something…intimate in mind? It wouldn’t be the first time, of course, but Lana isn’t sure now is the most appropriate part of the day. She has a meeting with Cytharat and some other personnel in less than an hour.  
Once she does as she’s told, however, she realizes that her assumption was incorrect. The device that Val had half-hidden behind the screen is a holocomm. When they’re alone, Val takes it and places it in the middle of the desk instead.

“Uh, what are we doing now?”, Lana asks.

“We have a call waiting. It’s on hold. Are you ready?”

The human glances down at her clothes and corrects them briefly, before she stops and realizes that this shouldn’t really matter. There’s a much more pressing issue.  
“Wait. Ready for what? Or who, rather.”  
She receives nothing but a small mischievous smile from Val, who pushes the button and reinitiates whatever conversation she had paused. On top of the small projector, another human appears, which Lana doesn’t quite recognize. She has pale skin, black hair in a ponytail, tight white and grey clothes, as well as a cybernetic patch over her left eye.  
“…and who is this?”

The human over the holo sighs and folds her arms.  
“I really don’t think this is necessary, my lord”, she tells Val.

Val shakes her head.  
“I disagree. This matter concerns Lana and therefore she deserves to be here.”

“Just because there are elements which happen to be related to her, it doesn’t necessarily signify that we have to involve her in the process. I can handle this on my own, I assure you, Dark Lord.”

“I’ve made up my mind already, so there’s no use in arguing. We will need her.  
Besides, I believe introductions are in order. You have spent enough time working with me in secret, and I do not enjoy keeping the truth from those I trust the most.”

The woman over the holo looks disappointed, but her protests have ended.  
“…if you must.”

Lana arches her brow skeptically, still standing rather far away.  
“Val, what’s going on?”

The Councilor smiles and gestures with her hand again.  
“You don’t have to remain all the way over there. Come, sit down.”  
She waits until Lana has walked all the way up to the desk and gets seated on a chair by the other side, before she continues.  
“I would like to introduce a rather unique individual, one who has been working with me for almost a year now. She has become one of my greatest assets, in a way. She is none other than the former Cipher Nine, also known as Cierah.”

It’s no surprise when Lana widens her eyes somewhat, apparently knowing the name.  
“Wait. Cipher Nine? As in…Imperial Intelligence?”

“Correct.”

Cierah exhales briefly and puts her hands behind her back instead.  
“That rank is long gone now, I’m afraid, as a result of what some other Sith did to my organization.”

Lana raises her brow again.  
“…'your' organization?”

“I was a member of it, one of the most crucial ones. I hope you will allow me to be self-indulgent with my terms.”

Despite being skeptical about the attitude, Lana looks very curiously at Val.  
“Have to say that I’m surprised. Never would’ve believed you’d somehow find one of the most notorious agents in the galaxy. Not even Darth Marr could locate her, and he has definitely tried. How did you get ahold of her? How long have the two of you been conversing like this?”

Val smirks and shrugs as she leans back in her chair.  
“Actually, I didn’t get ahold of her at all. It was Cierah who contacted me last year, as she wanted to begin a partnership. This exchange of information has proceeded on and off ever since, and I feel it has been quite lucrative for both of us. In terms of gathering knowledge and dealing with the many schemes in the Empire, that is.  
Like I said, she’s an asset, one of my greatest ones. Her way of seeing the invisible threads in the galaxy is remarkable.”

“I can imagine.”

“Unfortunately,” they hear Cierah saying, “I was not in time to predict Malgus’ movements. I suspected he was up to something, but not this New Empire. I maintain my belief that he was never working alone at the top, but I’m still gathering evidence for this conclusion.”

“Well, there are at least three Dark Councilors with him.”

“Yes, but they are not enough. I strongly believe that there’s someone else working behind him, in the shadows. I can’t yet prove who that might be, but I will find them. It’s highly doubtful that Malgus would’ve been clever enough to do all of this on his own. I will prove my suspicion eventually, mark my words.”

The assumption and its certainty are obviously enough to worry both of the Sith, but they don’t have much to add. If Cierah hunts the truth, she’ll likely succeed.  
Lana is curious of another aspect, however.  
“I know a little about you, how you were one of the best in the Empire and completed missions that many have failed with. If you are still loyal to us, should you not be with what remains of Intelligence?”

Cierah frowns at her and practically scoffs.  
“And be crushed under the thumb of Marr? Absolutely not.  
What you have now is not Imperial Intelligence, but a crippled husk of an organization. It is not _my_ Intelligence and I will not go anywhere near it. I am a free agent now, and have been for quite some time. I may still love my home and do everything to protect it, but I will not be brought under the rules and regulations of Sith ever again.”  
She raises her hand and points a finger at Lana.  
“And that includes you, advisor Beniko. Just because you know Imperius and that she respects you, that does not necessarily equate that I am yours to command.”

Lana stares at Cierah, but the agent does not look afraid when she glares back. Eventually, the advisor frowns and glances at Val.  
“…she’s very rude.”

Val snickers for a short while and then shrugs.  
“She just prefers to do things her own way. It’s what she told me from the very beginning.”

“I hope you don’t blame me for it, my lord”, Cierah tells the Councilor in a more amenable tone. “Sith have controlled my actions for too long.”

“Not at all. I believe our cooperation has worked just fine so far.”

It’s Lana’s turn to cross her arms and she refocuses her eyes on the agent.  
“In that case, why are you even here at all, Cipher? Why would you work with someone like my girlfriend, if you don’t wish to be ruled by the Sith?”

The emphasis on Val as her girlfriend, rather than a Dark Councilor, is an interesting aspect to the mirialan herself, likely due to Lana often being more formal in public. Most of the time, anyway. Is she getting possessive?  
Cierah rolls her eye.  
“First of all, she does not ‘rule’ me. As she already mentioned, we cooperate, we exchange important knowledge and resources. I do things my way and even though I feed her the information she requires, that does not mean she can command me. And she doesn’t.”

It still seems to be amusing to the Councilor, but she attempts to raise her hands to get their attention and to calm the situation down.  
“Ladies, please. I am alright with our arrangement, so I don’t see why there’s a need to argue.”

“Shouldn’t it be obvious?”, Lana insists. “Because I’m not sure I agree with you.”

Cierah interrupts before Val can make a comment.  
“But the decision is not up to you, is it?”

Lana turns her eyes down to stare at the agent, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have any useful retorts to push back with.  
“…no, I don’t suppose it is.”

“Precisely.  
Secondly, I actually happen to respect Imperius. She’s not like any other Sith I have ever encountered, and I don’t just mean because she’s not human or pureblood. She cares about the Empire and its people, she opposes the bickering of the Sith and she points out failings of our nation that some of us merely take for granted. I did not believe a Sith like her could ever exist.  
For all of this, she does not only have my respect, but she has slowly been winning my loyalty too. If I have to perform tasks for a Sith and do all the dirty work in order to get Imperius to the top, then so be it. The Empire needs someone like her.”

For a short while, Lana has to stop. She is impressed by how adamant Cierah is, how eager she seems to be to sacrifice her own integrity and morality, to let someone else shine. She must really care for the Empire then.  
“Well…on this point, I think we can both agree. Valcera is the one we deserve in such a position.”

Val clears her throat loudly, to get their attention, still seeming like she’s enjoying herself.  
“It’s adorable that the two of you think so highly of me, and conspire to make me Empress or something, but I would prefer not to be spoken of as if I’m not present.”

“Of course, Dark Lord. My apologies”, says Cierah and bows her head.

It’s interesting to Lana how Cierah insists she doesn’t want to be ruled by a Sith and yet she constantly displays deference. Perhaps it’s a habit.  
“Well, can someone tell me why I was called in here to begin with? Unless chatting to this Cipher was all you had in mind.”

Val waves her hand briefly to dismiss such thoughts.  
“Not at all. In fact, you are the reason we’re all here.”

“…me?”

“Well, sort of. Cierah, will you explain it for her?”

The agent inclines her head.  
“As you wish.  
Ever since the start of the second conflict, I have been continuing my usual strategy of searching all types of networks for information, intel, and interesting data, mostly regarding the New Empire and their various leaders. While I was monitoring a certain databank and all of its incoming messages, I picked up a rather peculiar one, which actually mentioned the name Beniko.”  
She fully directs her attention towards Lana.  
“It appears that Darth Zhorrid has taken an interest in you, advisor. I don’t know the exact reason, but I believe she intends to conduct some sort of attempt against your parents, on Bosthirda.”

Lana goes from skeptical curiosity into shock in less than a second. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is briefly left agape and silent, before she can find the words.  
“My…parents? That’s-…why the hell would Zhorrid want my family?”

“As I already stated, I don’t know…yet. However, I am absolutely certain that she is after those two specifically, as it was what the coded messages indicated. She wants them alive, to be specific, so it appears she may try to stage a kidnapping attempt.  
I doubt she will show up on her own, as it is far too risky, so you can likely expect her agents.”

Val slowly runs her hand over her chin, although doesn’t appear quite as astonished. She likely heard some of this information already.  
“You don’t have any theories on the reasons, Cipher?”

“Assumptions, at best.  
If I were to guess, I’d say this plan will be staged in the hopes of getting closer to you, lord Imperius, or somehow bargain for something that you have. Why else would she be interested in someone like your partner? She is quite insignificant to the larger events of taking over the Empire. No offense.”

Even if Lana tries her best to maintain composure, she is still obviously distressed by thought of having to lose her parents in any way, including letting them be kept in captivity.  
“Obviously, we have to protect them both”, she insists.

Val nods slowly.  
“I agree. We can’t let them be abducted. Not just because they’re your family, but because she will surely use this as leverage against us in some way.”

“I would not be in such a hurry, if I were you”, Cierah tells them carefully. “I believe this situation can be turned into an advantage, if we are patient.”

Lana resumes the glare she pointed at Cierah earlier, now with even more intensity.  
“Really? You want to use my parents as bait, don't you? Perhaps you should consider if you would be saying the same had they been your family, agent.” She does her utmost not to yell.

“I have already been in similar situations, so you don’t need to worry about me understanding the dilemma.  
Furthermore, I am not telling you that you should not be rescuing them, but that we should act in a more imaginative manner. I believe this strike can be our opportunity to gain some valuable leverage or potential secrets that belong to Zhorrid instead, if we manage to outmaneuver her.  
To take your parents away from their home before our enemies have a chance to initiate their plan would be foolish and a waste of time. We will only have temporarily averted disaster and allow them to simply disappear back into the shadows. If we let their mission proceed as it should, while we prepare an ambush, we can capture her agents or gain any of the information available on their bodies. This would be both smart and preferable. After all, we don’t just need to stop her, but find out _why_ she is doing this, correct?”

The room is silent for several seconds after this, with Lana especially being torn between the options. Val raises both her hands and intertwines her fingers, studying her girlfriend.  
“It’s your decision, Lana.”

The advisor turns to meet the gaze, displaying even more of her hesitation.  
“What do you think?”

“I believe the Cipher is correct, that this is a useful opportunity. I don’t want Zhorrid to continue escaping us, after all.  
However, I will not give this order if it is not a cost that you are willing to pay. This is your family, not mine.”

Lana takes a deep breath, and tries to search her heart. Her gut has already decided – it wants to reject the idea, thinking it’s absolutely ridiculous. She’s supposed to potentially lose her family, simply because they wish to obtain some paltry data? That is not fair, not justifiable, not right and-  
…but those thoughts are pushed aside, to instead consider what her mind tells her. What is she ready to do for the Empire? Even if she risks two people who are very important to her, isn’t it worth it if they manage to gain an advantage, no matter how small?

With a heavy sigh and a twisting sensation inside her stomach, Lana nods.  
“Fine, you’re right. This is probably the preferable conclusion. But there better be a damn good plan ready to stop them.”

“It will be”, Cierah assures her. “I have been through many similar missions in the past, without failure. I was in Imperial Intelligence, remember?”

Lana turns her yellow eyes to the agent once more, but this time she steps even closer, leaning down towards hologram. It’s unlikely that it appears the same way from the Cierah’s point of view, but she still does her best to look intimidating.  
“We will do this, agent, but if you fail us in any way and lose my parents…I will find you.”

If she was hoping to make a point and scare Cierah, she ends up being disappointed. The Cipher remains unfazed.  
“Cute. You won’t, but your threat is also unnecessary. I used to work for Zhorrid. I know a lot about her and her ways. She has never been able to best me and she never will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I can't remember Lana ever meeting Cierah in any of these stories, but correct me if I'm wrong. That's why I wanted to write this chapter and the followup that will come later._   
>  _And yes, as you probably saw, first impressions weren't great, which is something I find quite funny. Especially if you consider what kind of roles both of them get later on. It's the start of a small rivalry between the two._
> 
> _I mentioned it briefly at the start, but Val is going to attempt to take slavery in the Empire apart completely. She will make it illegal at some point later in these stories._   
>  _I haven't done all too much with it for the time being, as I try to focus on the main parts of the story intermingled with fluff - and also because the war itself hinders her progress - but that won't last forever._   
>  _I have attempted to show the changing nature of the Empire in various chapters, though; Val's arguing with the minister under Vowrawn how slavery can and should be abolished (in TPG), Zal's meeting with alien officers (in TPOD), the cathar officer in the Reclamation Service that helped Acina, Bery and Lenorr (in Price of a sun's kiss), mentioning the nautolan fishing corps as an organization and not a slave group etc. Might have done some more and I'll continue to do so as well._


	21. Into the empty seat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, here's some more introduction to Lakorev._

This was certainly not the type of trip Zal’riva had anticipated. When she came to Ziost at Vowrawn’s behest, she did suspect that something was wrong, but the difficulty was in identifying it. That old Sith always has schemes and political plots in the making, or so she assumes, and she wondered if her presence was simply needed for his next one. Well, she can’t say for sure that the outcome isn’t a ploy of some kind, but she certainly never planned to leave Ziost with a new apprentice at her side.

After they departed from the Production and Logistics headquarters, Zal and Lakorev spent another two days in New Adasta. She wanted to talk to the young man and get to know him. She hoped to find out what he likes to drink, what he’s like during sparring sessions and potentially some of his more personal interests. Even if she can’t for sure that she has gathered all of the components for what he is made of, she is satisfied with the results.

Once she felt it was done, they headed towards the spaceport again, so that they could board her ship. As her crew had already received word of what was going on, by this time, she is sure the entire team has probably travelled from whatever worlds they were stationed at and gathered themselves in there to wait. Zal isn’t entirely certain that the encounter which awaits them inside is going to be very pleasant, but it has to be done. He needs to receive a proper welcoming.

As the arrive at the correct hangar, they witness the gleaming appearance of her ship, apparently newly polished. Quinn must’ve told some of the local droids to administer this treatment.  
“And here it is”, she tells her apprentice, with a hand gesturing at it. “The ship of the Emperor’s Wrath, I suppose. Though, I had it even before I received this position.”

The chiss walks with his hands behind his back and slowly allows his gaze to drink in the sight. Even his face seems impressed.  
“A very fine vessel, master. Looks like it is in splendid condition, virtually like a new one shipped from the factories.”

“Indeed, we try to keep it in good shape. It has been in my possession for a few years, but due to how much use I have for it, I constantly try to find people that can update any of its systems in order to be prepared for future endeavors.”

“Reasonable. What do you call it?”

“The Tempest.”

Lakorev raises an eyebrow somewhat in surprise and looks towards his master for a few seconds, before he responds.  
“That’s…a flashy name.”

Zal narrows her eyes slightly in his direction.  
“Hmm. Vette originally made fun of it as well.”

“…Vette?”

“You’ll see.”  
She gestures for him to follow again and they stride towards the hatch that is opened at the bottom, leading into the ship.  
“When we meet the team, I want you to be as respectable as possible. The people you’re about to see are some of my closest companions, my friends. You could say that they’re practically my family, in certain ways.”

Lakorev follows her obediently, not straying from the path even a little.  
“Of course, master. I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, though. It sounds as if you believe I might not be.”

Zal glances over her shoulder and her lekku twitch somewhat skeptically.  
“Well, let’s just say I have my doubts.”

He views her curiously, but his expression is mostly quite unfazed.  
“If I may ask, have I done something to trigger this particular reaction?”

“Well, you do seem to start drooling every time we meet a potentially attractive man.”

His neutral stance doesn’t last for all too long, as he smiles in a slightly mischievous way now. Yeah, she has definitely read this guy accurately.  
“I believe that’s a slight exaggeration, my lord. I merely…make sure they’re appreciated.”

“Uh-huh”, she emits disbelievingly.

Once they enter the ship and move through the first few rooms and corridors of the grey, red and black interior, she notices how Lakorev studies each of the passages with interest. He doesn’t stop at any point, but he clearly wishes to familiarize himself with everything. Perhaps she should offer a tour later.  
“Interesting choice of decorations, my lord. Very…imperial.”

Zal exhales audibly.  
“You know, I’m never sure whether your praise is sarcastic or not.”

He tilts his head with another amused expression.  
“Isn’t that the fun mystery of it all?”

“I’m also not sure we have the same definition of ‘fun’.”

Eventually, they reach the kitchen, which Zal notes is very quiet at this time. Her friends must have been checking the sensors, to follow the movements of the two.  
Just as she expected, the entire group is already sitting around the empty table, waiting for the duo to arrive. They look somewhat expectantly at Zal and Lakorev to begin with, before they stand up and bow their heads in a respectful greeting, mostly to their leader.

“Welcome back to the ship, my lord”, says Jaesa. She and Vette were not actually with Zal on the trip here, but it’s still an appropriate phrase. “We hope your journey to the spaceport was uneventful.”

Zal folds her arms.  
“It would have been, if not for him”, she remarks and points one lek in Lakorev’s direction. He merely clears his throat in response. Once her team sits down, she hopes to at least proceed in the pace she prefers.  
“Everyone, this is Csapla’kore’Vhako, or Lakorev, my new apprentice. I know it will be somewhat difficult to suddenly adjust to a new member of our squad, but I’m sure we can do it together.  
At any rate, this is my team and crew, a group I have worked with closely for the last few years. Not all of them are with us constantly anymore, but they are always welcome back here, whenever they want. It’s probably best if we start slowly, with one at a time, so everyone can be properly introduced. Should make it easier to associate them with the basics.”  
She starts with the man closest to the left.  
“This is Major Malavai Quinn, who has been working for me since the day we met on Balmorra. He has acted as military coordinator, medic, assistant, advisor and pilot, during all sorts of different missions. He was also the second member of this team that I recruited. Well, if you don’t count 2V-R8, the custodian droid.”

Quinn gets back on his feet and bows his head, almost as deeply as before, but not quite as fiercely as he did for Zal.  
“I am honored to meet a Sith like yourself, my lord”, he tells Lakorev. “I have already taken the liberty of checking your records and examined your activities in the Academy. With results such as yours, and with your new apprenticeship, I can truly see that you are the future of the Empire, along with Lord Wrath and Lord Willsaam.”

Lakorev stands there and looks at the Major, studying him curiously. Zal pretty much expects some kind of flirty suggestion to come out of his mouth, but no such thing occurs.  
“A pleasure to meet you as well, Major. I have heard certain rumors regarding you too. Some of them mention potential crimes against the Empire – or more specifically, my new master.”

Despite the accusation, when Quinn straighten his back once more, he maintains his poise.  
“You have heard correctly. In the past, I acted against Lord Wrath, when I clearly shouldn’t have. At the time, I believed that my attempt was what the Empire needed in order to progress, but it was a mistake.  
After some consideration, I came to the realization that the only thing that the Empire truly requires is master Zal’riva at the helm of it. This is the one goal I have been working towards ever since and I will do everything I can to assist her, even give my life for her cause, if necessary.”

Zal can’t hide the slight smile on her lips when Quinn speaks the honesty with such determination.  
Lakorev nods and turns his attention to her as well.  
“It sounds like you have chosen a wise ally, my lord.”

“I know”, Zal admits. “It’s a conclusion I made long ago.”  
Once Quinn sits down, she motions at the next person, seated to the right.  
“As you probably notice, you and I are not the only non-humans on this ship. This here is Broonmark, who I picked up as a follower on Hoth. He is perhaps more of the muscle on this team. Well, below me, anyway.”

Lakorev looks towards the white furry creature and views him with both interest and a little bit of caution.  
“A talz.”

As Broonmark has his translator attached to his body at this time, his speech is heard through Basic for those that don’t have any implants or other devices.  
“You know my people?”

“I have met some of them in the past, yes, during my training. My people endure similar types of territories as yours.”

It’s not entirely certain, due to the nature of the sounds his people makes, but it does kinda appear as if Broonmark snorts.  
“You have likely encountered the weaker of my kind, which you should not compare me to. I am a warrior and I eagerly slaughter my enemies, in the name of our clan.”

Lakorev arches his brow in mild surprise and glances towards Zal.  
“Quite an…enthusiastic spirit, I see.”

“Indeed”, Zal admits. “He can be fairly…excitable, but he has always done well in combat and he listens.”

“I fight for this clan, master, to make it stronger”, Brookmark explains.

Even if the chiss mostly tries to keep his appearance neutral, there is a slightly vicious edge hiding beneath, when he next turns to the talz.  
“As long as you don’t attempt anything or get in my way, I’m sure we will get along famously, Broonmark.”

“And I extend you the same offer, blue skin”, the talz tell him in return.

Not quite the type of friendly meeting that Zal had hoped for, but when it comes to Broonmark, she hadn’t really expected anything else either. It’s just who he is, which can become…problematic.  
Seeing how awkward it gets, she tries to move on and points at the next person.  
“At any rate, let me introduce Captain Pierce. He’s a former black ops soldier and have mostly remained in this role during his time in my crew.”

Compared to Quinn’s very formal pose, Pierce merely inclines his head. Still respectfully, but not abundantly so.  
“Pleasure to meet you, m’lord. Not done any background searches myself, but if Lord Wrath chose you, that’s good enough for me.”

Before Lakorev can respond, Zal snorts.  
“It wasn’t quite that simple, but I have decided to take him on regardless.”

Lakorev ignores this comment for now and instead focuses on Pierce.  
“Interesting. What sort of areas have you served in or performed missions upon, Captain?”

“Lots of different planets, m’lord”, he admits. “Nopsin, Haruun Kal, Taris, but my most famous run was probably one that was approved by Lord Wrath here, on the Bastion.”

The chiss slowly nods his head in recognition.  
“On Corellia?”

Pierce smirks confidently.  
“That’s the one. Glad you’ve heard of it, m’lord.”

Lakorev runs a hand up to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully.  
“Most interesting. The reports I’ve read on it say that this fortress was supposed to be impenetrable.”

“Oh, it was, against the rabble. Fortunately, it couldn’t really face my team. We brought down their defenses and helped seize it for the Empire. Pretty sure the higher-ups put our team in the history books for that one.”

It does indeed sound like an impressive feat, but Lakorev isn’t done.  
“Heard it was lost to the Republic again, months later, though. Havoc Squad, if I’m not mistaken.”

Pierce’s good mood somewhat disperses then and he furrows his brow and folds his arms.  
“…not easily and certainly not just with one team. They had to bring in several squads in order to get it.  
But…yes, they did. Never said I was there to defend it.”

Lakorev smiles somewhat amusedly and nods.  
“Good to know, Captain. I’m sure we will have time to discuss the details later on.”

Seeing how this conversation turned out slightly better, despite Pierce now muttering to himself, Zal decides to proceed and turns her apprentice’s attention towards the other twi’lek.  
“Right, two people left. First, we have Vette, my best pilot and general troublemaker in the team.”

The shorter woman is resting with her feet on another chair, and smirks confidently at the description.  
“Yep, sounds about right. I think I’m equally good at both of those two professions as well, based on my performance.”

Her comments make Lakorev smile once more.  
“Ah, I see. You are the one who didn’t approve of the ship name either?”

Vette blinks confusedly at first, before she glances at Zal, to see how their leader rolls her eyes. Vette chuckles.  
“Did you criticize it too? Surprised you’re still standing. She gets very sensitive about it.”

And here they go. Zal sighs, knowing that this was the route that they’d take. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned Vette’s opinion at all. Could’ve avoided this entire confrontation.  
“Not true. I have always been fine with criticism…for the most part.”

“Hah! Yeah, okay, sure. It’s not like anyone has _ever_ suffered for critiquing your skills, right?  
All those people who suddenly got slammed face first into nearby walls? Probably just fell over or tripped on their feet. Since security cameras didn’t pick up anything, they can’t prove otherwise, can they?”

Zal glances at Lakorev, then Jaesa, seeing how both of them seem to be enjoying themselves just as much as Vette.  
“…look, I just prefer for it to be constructive. I’ll learn nothing if it’s simply insulting.”

“So, ‘it’s shit’ isn’t constructive enough? I mean, it’s just a name.”

She points at the shorter twi’lek.  
“We’ll see what you think when I start to say the same about your music, Vette.”

Vette gasps, although in a somewhat theatrical manner.  
“Whoa! Hey c’mon, now you’re getting way too serious! You can’t just turn this around and start judging my art!”

‘Hah. ‘Art’. Sure, Vette, that’s definitely what we call it.”

Once the two of them are done, they notice how Lakorev’s previous expression remains.  
“I can see that the two of you like each other a lot”, he comments.

Zal shrugs briefly.  
“Well, she has been with me for a long time. She was the first one of this team that I recruited. Vette is very…special to me.”

“I see. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, master.”

It appears that Vette seems pretty smug about the usage of that term too, so Zal quickly hurries this conversation on to the next step.  
“And so, finally, we have arrived at the last member. This is Jaesa – or Lord Willsaam, as she is known now. She is my former apprentice and a member of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy.”

As it may be expected of him, Lakorev bows his head towards her.  
“It is an honor to be in your presence, my lord. I have heard about your actions and accomplishments as well.”

Jaesa clears her throat, always being somewhat awkward with such deference, and then smiles.  
“It’s uh, it’s alright. You don’t need to bow here. In private, I feel it’s far too casual for such formality.”

And yet, did she not do so earlier, when Zal entered? Perhaps it’s simply an excuse, but not one Lakorev will oppose.  
“As you wish. I hope you don’t mind that I point this out, my lord, but I do feel as if ‘Willsaam’ doesn’t sound like a very typical Sith title. They usually have ones that sound much fiercer, don’t they?”

“Uh, actually, yeah. As a matter of fact, I was given a Sith title too – Lord Yarantus. I’m not…very fond of it, though. Sounds kinda excessive to me, so I decided to ignore it. Please, just call me Jaesa.”

Lakorev inclines his head in recognition.  
“Very well.  
As I understand it, you have performed a lot of things to impress the Empire as well, especially after having been a Jedi before. And you are very close to master Zal’riva, correct?”

Hearing him mention this, Jaesa turns her gaze towards Zal instead and smiles.  
“I am. She has done a lot for me during my time as an apprentice, and she continues to support me.”

Zal mostly mirrors her expression and nods confidently.  
“I try my best. Initially, I attempted to hunt Jaesa down, because my own master was after her and another Jedi, Nomen Karr. Fortunately, during that process, I got to know the padawan that she was, learned about her interests, principles and apparent goals. This created a connection which later led to a bond between us.  
There are few people like Jaesa in this galaxy, Lakorev, and I will do everything to protect her. It doesn’t matter to me if she is my apprentice or not, as more than anything, she is my friend.”

Jaesa’s face brightens even further.  
“And I could have asked for no finer master.”  
She chooses to redirect her eyes to Lakorev.  
“Master Zal’riva is one of the best people in the Empire, across Sith, soldiers and citizens. You are lucky to be learning from her. If my experiences are anything to go by, you can grow past any limits you ever imagined, in her tutelage.”

“So I’ve heard”, Lakorev agrees. “There is no doubt that I look forward to the opportunity and I will try to follow your example. Besides, I have already figured that this journey will be fairly amusing too.”

Vette corrects her position somewhat and leans forward, placing her arms on the table.  
“Well, how do you feel about being on the Tempest then? Ready to be part of this crew or what?  
I mean, we’re some of the best in the galaxy, so, you know, a lot to live up to. No pressure.”

Jaesa sighs and raises a hand to her own forehead.  
“Vette…be nice.”

Thankfully, Lakorev waves a hand to dismiss thoughts of going easy on him.  
“It’s alright, Lord Willsaam. I am ready for a challenge, as it’s what I expected when I was to come here.  
To answer your question, Vette, I am excited”, he says, even if his tone is somewhat placid. “You seem like good people, with variety of opinions and experiences between you. I am eager to get to know everyone.”

“I’m sure they feel the same”, Zal tells him.

“I hope so. It would be good to make some new friends, especially since this crew provides some rather…fine company.”

Vette looks at him skeptically, wondering who or what he’s speaking of.  
“Uh, what do you mean by that?”

Shortly after this, Lakorev surveys both Pierce and Quinn quite intently, especially the fancy uniforms they’re wearing for this occasion. There’s a certain glint in his red eyes that Zal suddenly recognizes. Ah, here it comes.  
“Well, I always tend to say that I enjoy my imperials like I enjoy my caf – strong, delectable, refined, and in neat packages.”

The shock due to this statement instills the entire room with a few seconds of silence. Once it blows over, Broonmark is still quiet, while Jaesa covers her blushing face with her hands.  
“Oh dear.”

Quinn coughs awkwardly.  
“…my lord.”

Pierce blinks, not quite sure what to respond.  
“Uh…”

But the one who reacts the most positively and loudest, is Vette, as she begins to laugh.  
“Amazing! I like this guy already!”

Zal smirks, crosses her arms and shakes her head.  
“Behave, apprentice.”

Lakorev shrugs at her, trying to look innocent. It’s difficult to hide the underlying smugness, though.  
“Master, please. I’m the model of good manners, I assure you.”

“Are you sure Vowrawn never tutored you at any point?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As you may have noticed, I used "lek" at one point in this chapter. I somehow misunderstood the fact that lekku is apparently the plural and lek is singular. So yeah, trying to adjust my writing accordingly. Might go back through the various stories and fix that at some point._   
>  _Also, Jaesa's Sith title is not one that exists in-game, of course, so I had to find something that sounded appropriate. Obviously, she prefers her own name._


	22. Bladed welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter contains an angry Lana. A very angry Lana, in fact._   
>  _Also uh, there's some kinda gruesome violence in this one? Not super detailed, but yeah, just so you know._

Bosthirda, one of the more outwardly attractive worlds in the center of imperial space. Compared to locations like Ziost, Korriban and Dromund Kaas, this planet has not been particularly corrupted by an excess of dark side influence and therefore, it has become a popular vacation spot for other imperials or a world that many prefer to live on.  
It has several different types of biomes, of course, but the most favored ones by the populace are the tropical and temperate zones. It is in the latter category where one can find the house belonging to the Beniko couple.

While this family gets a lot of guests, not everyone seeks to enter peacefully and one such unfriendly group is currently waiting on the outskirts of the gardens surrounding the house, in the middle of the night.  
The agents sent by Darth Zhorrid have been preparing and scouting the place out for about a day, hoping to assess defenses, potential weaknesses and other aspects of note that might be vital to know. So far, very little has happened and that means there’s no reason to linger. They have their orders already and only need to act.

The team preparing to go in consists of twelve people, with three of them being Sith. One such Sith is Lord Solvaris – a light-skinned human man with a shaved head and black tattoos across several parts of his face and neck, representing various old Sith symbols. His body is adorned with a light black and grey armor, like most of this team.  
He is one of the few from their Order who has remained loyal to Zhorrid, ever since she ascended to the Dark Council, and she promoted him for it. When she left for the New Empire, he saw no reason to stay and therefore went with her.

Solvaris won’t lie – when she told him of this plan, he was reluctant. It sounded risky and foolish. Not that he was against the act of kidnapping, but to go directly into Bosthirda? It’s still within the secured borders of the Sith Empire and he doesn’t want to get trapped. However, he couldn’t resist her commands, as she is his superior. In a way, he also wanted to prove himself, both to her and to Malgus, to show that he is capable and loyal. Let’s hope he gets that chance.

Another thing he will admit is that he believes the size of the team sent with him was kind of excessive. He felt like a handful was enough, but an entire dozen?  
Not like he could protest much, though. Zhorrid insisted that this mission be conducted appropriately and within the perimeters that she set for them. What if they run into an unknown obstacle, for example?  
Besides, with such a big team, she felt that they could potentially leave a few behind if a distraction needed to be used. He couldn’t really argue much with that suggestion, at least.

When they come closer, Solvaris concentrates and thinks it cannot be mistaken – he senses life essence in the area, through the Force, despite not being able to pinpoint the exact locations. Even if the interior is somewhat obscured by the curtains, they also believe that they can see two shapes sitting inside the living room. Must be their targets.  
The group moves past the moderately-sized garden, doing their best to avoid making too much of a mess. This place is quite neatly decorated and cleaned, with rows of flowers, trees placed in between and even a small fountain somewhere in the middle of it all.

Once they’re close to the wall, Solvaris stops and holds up a hand, making the others cease their advance too.  
“Alright, divide yourselves into four groups of three”, he whispers to them. “We’re surrounding the house and taking one side each. I’ll stay with the door closest to the living room. Move.”

The rest of the team proceeds rather swiftly and Solvaris waits until they’ve gotten into position, announcing it over their comm units. That’s when he gives the signal to act.  
Despite the previous silence, they are now done with notions of stealth and instead continue with haste and precision. Some break into windows, others through doors – Solvaris prefers the latter, as he utilizes his orange lightsaber to carve open the door closest to him. In this situation, they don’t care about leaving traces, as their enemies will become aware far too late.

Unfortunately, they don’t quite face what they expected. As Solvaris enters the living room together with his two comrades, the shapes they saw earlier are not actually the Beniko couple, but two pieces of plastic, shaped like people. It is very blatant now, but the figures do look very convincing from the outside, when only witnessing the contours. Solvaris waits until the rest of his team catches up, but none of them seem to have spotted anything on the way.

“They’re not here”, one of the other Sith confirms.

Solvaris frowns and grips his weapon even harder. This is highly suspicious and sends internal alarms straight through his mind. Did the couple know they were coming? Or is this merely a regular security precaution? The intruders aren’t attacked on the spot, so something else must be going on.  
They have a choice to make here and they have to be smart about it. Zhorrid definitely wants these two people and Solvaris does not want to leave empty-handed. This feels a lot like a trap, but is it one they can handle? Has their enemy found the truth? That would be really bad.

Reaching out with his mind, he does still sense something in the Force.  
“There are still people here somewhere. I can feel it. Check the other rooms and find out where they’re hiding. Either way, we leave in five minutes.”

They follow his orders and start spreading out in the house, but they still move in the groups that they were assigned to previously. For now, Solvaris chooses to guard their exit with two other people.  
As the only trio without a Sith reaches the kitchen, they start rummaging around, hoping to find some hidden hatch…but instead locates something completely different.  
One of the tables has been flipped over in here and behind it, a rattataki woman in a medium-sized blue armor jumps up, holding a blaster shotgun in her hands. If they had done their research, they would know that this one goes by the name of Bejarah.

She smirks at them and gives them only a second to think.  
“Surprise, dickheads”, she says and pulls the trigger, blasting the first person straight in their chest, pushing them into the closest wall. She fires once more, but the two other individuals nearby leaps away, managing to avoid getting shot.

This seems to have been some sort of signal that triggers the trap to be sprung. Suddenly, Solvaris realizes that there are not just one or two people here, but at least four.  
On the upper floor of the house, the door to one of the bedrooms slides open and Lana Beniko herself jumps out, ambushing the people nearby. She draws her lightsaber and cuts down the first non-Sith with a slash right over the chest. The second person attempts to shoot her, but she spins around and deflects every shot. During a brief pause, she utilizes the Force to slam them into a wall, runs up to their position, pierces their abdomen with the lightsaber and decapitates them, showing no mercy.  
From behind, she hears the sound of another weapon like hers, and she blocks the ambushing Sith, turns towards him and initiates their duel.

A third group, walking on the bottom floor, hears the noises erupting in the house and prepares themselves for an ambush of their own. They check each of the corridors, getting ready to look for any people coming at them.  
However, what they don’t expect is for the door to the basement to be slammed open with raw strength. A gigantic red-skinned dashade sprints at them, holding a massive vibrosword in his hands.  
Khem Val swings his blade and pretty much slices the first person in half, growling menacingly as he does. The sound, vision and blood spilling all over, makes the other two hesitate for but a moment, giving Khem the chance to spin around and impale the other non-Sith straight against the wall.  
The last of the trio, the Sith, shakes her head and ignites her lightsaber, screams and launches at him with full fury.

Tension increases in the final group due to the chaos surrounding them, but they are not excluded from conflict; they hear a noise from the outside, in the garden. Someone jumps down from the roof and is followed by a weird crackling sound. Is that fire…or lightning?  
Solvaris turns around and looks out, which immediately makes him widen his eyes.  
“…Darth Imperius!”

Valcera smirks, standing there in lighter clothes than usual, some kind of pretty tight purple and black outfit.  
“Good evening. What a late-night visit we received. A shame that we can’t accommodate strangers at this time.”

She raises her hand and shoots her power straight towards him. Solvaris manages to duck, but one of his companions is not so lucky, as they get struck in the chest, being flung across the living room and slams hard into the opposite wall. Sounds of bones breaking and the sight of the body twitching on the floor, accompanies this attack.  
The third person from this group is foolish enough to attempt to fire at her, but Val merely raises her hand to create a shield that protects her. After a second or two, she utilizes the Force to telekinetically drag this person out of the house, letting them fall onto the grass. She summons power in her hands again and directs it all to a location up in the sky. Throwing her hands downwards, a beam of lightning bursts right into third soldier’s back, frying them instantly.

Solvaris only gets a second or two to breathe, realizing what a foolish mission this really was. They’re all going to die in here, aren’t they? There’s no way that they can escape the wrath of a Dark Councilor, especially not if she has an entire team with her. How could he not have sensed this beforehand? Then again, that’s a pretty stupid question on its own, because of course Imperius would have enough power to hide herself from his sensory abilities. There is now only one thing left to do – die with honor.

Out in the kitchen, a small firefight begins, as the two living soldiers stand behind their walls for cover, trying to shoot at Bejarah’s location from two separate openings. She only occasionally retaliates, due to having another plan in mind.  
During a moment where one soldier needs to reload, she takes the opportunity to pull out a flash grenade, which she tosses out with just the right amount of momentum. Her enemy isn’t quick enough to evade it, being temporarily blinded, and that gives her a slight bit of room. She leaps up from her position, drops her shotgun, runs out of one exit and tackles this soldier. Before they have a chance to resist, she pulls out a vibrodagger from her chest holsters and stabs the soldier straight in the throat.

The comrade of this soldier appears to have noticed what happens too late, but still attempts to get revenge. Bejarah sees the movement coming at her and to protect herself, she utilizes the body of the person she just killed as a shield. She closes the distance to the target and at the right moment, shoves the body straight towards her last enemy. This stuns them long enough for her to flank them and draw a second dagger. She stabs the side of their abdomen, causing enough pain for them to lose grip of their weapon. Seizing the opportunity, she steps up behind her foe and holds the dagger at their neck.

“You chose the wrong side, asshole”, she tells them, momentarily before slashing their skin open.

On the upper floor, Lana battles a Sith in the corridor outside her parents’ bedroom, the sound of lightsabers clashing echoing through the area. She parries attack after attack, while countering whenever she sees an opportunity. Unfortunately for this guy, she is fueled by anger due to people wanting to hurt her family, which gives her further strength and the upper hand in the duel, despite striking much less than her opponent.

In an act of desperation, the other Sith backs off into one of the nearby rooms and attempts to use whatever items are available. He flings lamps, boxes, and even some shelves at her, but Lana either slices them apart or deflects them with the Force.  
For this reason, she unfortunately does not realize exactly what he’s tossing at her, until it is too late. She notices something comes at her from the left side and it’s not until she has knocked it away that she sees how a family photo previously hanging on the wall has now fallen to the ground, broken in pieces.

When he stops, seeing that there are very few objects left, he observes how the dark side around Lana begins to increase in depth and intensity, her yellow eyes glowing even fiercer.  
“ _That_ …was a mistake”, she tells him firmly. “You will regret it, briefly.”

She leaps at him, each swing being much heavier than before, and she is driving him towards the wall, her movements being a fine combination of both severe strength and impressive agility. She still occasionally parries some of the countermeasures that the other Sith attempts, but she is just as likely to dodge them. Lana is much stronger than what one might expect from an advisor and this Sith soon realizes he never stood a chance.

Eventually, she manages to disarm him, with a neat cut that slices his hand off, the weapon flying across the floor. She takes that chance to stab him right through the back, but not long enough to actually kill him instantly. When he’s on the verge of death, pain overwhelming his body, she feels a sadistic streak coming over her and she cuts off one of his legs from under him.  
As he drops to the floor and attempts to instinctively crawl away, she clenches her hand, grabbing his throat with the Force and lifts him up in the air, slowly choking the life out of him.  
If Val saw this brutality, she would probably be worried, as Lana is not usually like this…but the encounter here was personal.

For the Sith fighting Khem, the fight is pretty much pure misery. Not only is he easily strong enough to take on a Sith of her level, he also seems to know what attacks to expect and how to counter them. For her, it appears as if this alien monstrosity has fought her kind before.  
When the lightsaber attacks don’t work, she instead attempts to use the Force. No creature should be allowed to stand up to a Sith and she doubts this one knows how to protect himself against it.

Except, this doesn’t go as she planned either. At first, it almost seems as if her lightning goes straight into him and causes him pain, but it’s a ruse. Two seconds later, the energy changes direction and suddenly surges into Khem’s mouth instead. The dashade lets out a satisfied breath and speaks in Basic with a heavy accent.  
“Thank you, little Sith. I was hungry.”

She doesn’t know what to say, how to respond or even what to do, and seems to be in shock. That turns out to be quite an unfortunate reaction, as she is therefore not ready for his next strike. He delivers a slash straight across her torso, making her stumble backwards into a nearby wall and drop her weapon. Before she can do anything else, he has already caught up with her and his huge clawed hand grabs ahold of her coat, lifting her up in the air. She is in too much pain to resist and the last thing she experiences is how his terrifying face reaches her and he literally tears her throat out with his fangs.

In the garden, the fight out here has calmed down somewhat. Or at least, Solvaris realizes that he is being toyed with.  
Imperius launches the occasional lightning strike, but it’s easy enough that he can block it with his lightsaber. She wants to talk, apparently.  
“Did you really believe you could accomplish anything here?”, she asks him. “Did you truly think that we wouldn’t find out about this? In that case, you are as foolish as Zhorrid.”

Solvaris frowns and has to grit his teeth when he manages to use his lightsaber to parry another attack, for even her minor ones are fierce enough to make his whole body vibrate.  
“You are the foolish one, Imperius. If you believe the old Empire can succeed, you’re blind. Malgus will crush you all eventually – he is the reigning Sith, the one that will bring us victory.”

Val snorts and raises an eyebrow in an unimpressed fashion.  
“Maybe he is powerful, but that doesn’t make him particularly smart. If he agreed to this mission, then that is just more proof of what a failure he is.”

Suddenly, the intensity of her attack increases, and it turns out being too much for his weapon. The lightning surrounds him and begins to strike all across his body, but not with an intent to kill him. It turns out being enough for him to drop his weapon, however, leaving him defenseless.  
She isn’t done with him yet and he feels how another attack through the Force is made, this time to push him away, knocking him right into one of the house walls. The impact makes him momentarily lose his breath and she holds him like this for a second or two, before lifting him up in the air and then slamming him to the ground, causing even more agony.

“Now then”, she starts, “tell me, why would you attempt something like this? Why would Zhorrid order the kidnapping of Lana’s family?”

Solvaris coughs violently when he gets the chance, feeling how his lungs practically burn. He can’t remember when he was last hurt like this, nor when he fought against an opponent that was so overwhelming. Perhaps he never has, not truly. Darth Jadus would likely have been superior, but Solvaris never fought that man, only stood in his presence. That was horrible enough.  
“You…you think I’ll talk to you?”, he asks her in a breathy and hoarse voice. Words are difficult right now. “In that case…you’re a bigger idiot than-“

Val frowns and a momentarily squeezes his throat to stop him from ending that sentence. She lets him go shortly after.  
“I can be merciful, you know.”

Shortly after this, another person exits the house – Lana. She still has the lightsaber in her hand and frowns at their last living opponent.  
“But I will not be. Answer her questions, you worm, or I will carve you open. Slowly.”

Even if Val isn’t hurting him anymore, she is still holding him down with the Force, making it impossible for him to move. An unfamiliar sensation dawns on him then – the inevitability of death. One way will be more painful than the other and might last for years if he doesn’t do what they say. From one angle, it’s horribly depressing, but at the same time, amusing. What can one do other than laugh in the face of certain death? This is what he chooses to do, making both women seem slightly confused.

“Now that we have failed, I guess it doesn’t matter”, he says after he’s done, pain still in his throat. “We won’t succeed either way.  
You were her goal, Imperius. She tried to take Beniko’s parents so that she could convince you to trade yourself for their freedom.”

Val furrows her brow and her eyes dart back and forth in thought for a moment.  
“Why? What purpose would that serve?”

“How should I know? Ask her. I just follow orders.”

“Hmm. I guess obtaining a Dark Councilor would be useful, but that sounds too simple. I doubt she’s that dumb.”  
Val gestures at him with her other hand.  
“Search his body. See if he has a communicator somewhere.”

Lana sighs.  
“I’d rather cut him open, but…fine.”  
The advisor sheathes her weapon and kneels down by the trapped Sith, using her hands to dig through his pockets and pouches. He could help them, but doesn’t feel like it. Nothing matters anymore.  
Eventually, Lana does fish out a small item from one of them.  
“Here we go, a holocomm. I would guess one of these frequencies goes to Zhorrid.”

Val smirks once more, looking very pleased.  
“Splendid. It seems we manage to find a way to reach her every time. Call her, and let’s see what she has to say.”

When Lana finds the right frequency, the shape that materializes on the small projector is indeed the former Dark Councilor. She appears somewhat excited at first.  
“Yes, what is it? Have you found them, Sol-“  
The joyful expression disperses soon after, when she realizes whom she’s speaking to and sighs deeply.  
“…we have to stop having conversations like this, Imperius.”

Out from the door comes Khem, who helps his master by holding down their prisoner, giving enough space for Val to fold her arms instead.  
“I agree. We could have enjoyed a fine meal together up on the Adorra Spacedock, but you chose this absurd action instead. A pity, isn’t it?”

Zhorrid slowly shakes her head.  
“If only you would stop struggling…”

Val scowls and tries to study the hologram. It’s as if the other Sith doesn’t really want to look at her.  
“What did you think you could achieve here, Zhorrid? Had you expected that I wouldn’t find out? My resources are far superior to some pretender.”  
No immediate response arrives, forcing Val to push onwards.  
“You wanted me, didn’t you? Why? What’s the point of attempting to capture me? If it’s a fight you want, then come here. _Face me.”_

Finally, the former leader of the Imperial Intelligence Sphere looks up and gazes at her with equally disapproving eyes.  
“…I never said I did.”

“No? Then what is this about? You think you can succeed in the war against us by taking me away? Why not just try to kill me? Sounds like a surer victory.”

“There is nothing left of the old Empire, Imperius. It is a dying husk, on its last legs and the embers are dispersing. It will be reduced to ashes”, she explains with a fierce tone, until it softens once more. “…but it would be a shame if you disappeared with it.”

Val looks visibly surprised by that answer, glancing at some of her companions, who only shrug. It does sound quite genuine, though.  
“If that’s how you feel, why not just come back to us? I never wanted you as an enemy, Zhorrid. I still don’t.”

The former Councilor exhales in disappointment and waves dismissively.  
“Impossible. It isn’t within the realm of reason. His path…is the only way.”

“Who? Malgus? You should know that he is nothing but a power-hungry fool. He doesn’t care about you or anyone else. Not even the Sith Code actually matters to him. He just wants to be the next Emperor. Is that truly who you wish to follow?”

Zhorrid responds, but not to what Val says. She seems to already have moved on.  
“It was my hope that we could solve this quietly…but I suppose it was never going to be that simple. We shall see each other again, Imperius.”  
This is the last thing she says, before the conversation is cut short.  


* * *

  
Not long after this discussion is over, somewhere out in the depths of conquered space now belonging to the New Empire, Darth Zhorrid walks into her private quarters on the dreadnought she is currently staying on.  
As she moves inside, she sees how her datapad has a blinking light on it, a notification of some sort. She approaches and activates it, seeing that she has received a message.

The source is anonymous, but Zhorrid knows who it is. Who else could it be, with what it says on the screen?  
_“You idiot. Do you realize what you have done? I can’t protect you forever, if you continue like this”_ , she reads.

Zhorrid frowns and clenches her hand. How dare they? Do they truly believe that Zhorrid is incapable of succeeding with her own plans, of making decisions that can be beneficial? She should just shrug it off, but sends back a message anyhow.  
“I don’t need you. I can survive on my own.”

 _“Fine. Keep lying to yourself”_ , she gets in return.


	23. Latent considerations

For the first time in many months, the ship known as the Rogue Warden is in imperial space for reasons that aren’t directly related to combat. As it drops out of hyperspace, the vessel and its crew find themselves out among some of the colonies, sectors which currently have it rather difficult against the New Empire. Fortunately, this particular system is not included in this equation, which is why it was chosen as the meeting spot with the other ship they’re encountering.

Cierah walks onto the bridge, accompanied by Cipher’s Menace, who sits perched on her shoulder, watching over his surroundings. As she looks towards the pilot seat, she sees Kaliyo sitting behind the controls, with Raina in the co-pilot chair. Behind the agent herself comes her droid companion, HK-51, one who follows her almost wherever she goes now. It’s hard to say how this one and Scorpio gets along, but none of them have observed all too much communication between the two.

Having heard the noise, Kaliyo looks over her shoulder at their boss.  
“Hey agent, do you remember what you told me after we went rogue? That it’s a really fucking bad idea to go into Sith space from now on?”

Cierah views her friend skeptically. She had sort of expected this reaction to some degree, but Kaliyo does enjoy being excessive.  
“…I don’t believe those were my exact words. And we’re not rogue, we’re-“

“Is that a yes or what?”

If there’s one thing Kaliyo hates, it’s when people remark on the technicality of her statements, which is exactly why Cierah keeps doing it. That does tend to make the rattataki stop listening to her, though.  
“…fine, yes, I remember.”

“Yeah, whatever happened to that? Our goal was to stay in the shadows, preferably outside of those areas and yet now we’re in imp space again, after all.  
And also, wasn’t this new plan you agreed to recommended by a Sith of all people? What’s up with that? I thought you hated Sith now.”

“Wrong. I don’t hate Sith, I just distrust the majority of them. Doesn’t include everyone.”

Raina chooses to enter the conversation as well, turning to the woman in the other pilot seat.  
“We also cannot forget that it was actually Darth Imperius who asked us to come here, and she has continuously been an ally to us. We are working to improve her position and mindset in the Empire, after all. Besides, if the report we received was correct, there is no Sith present at our destination.”

Kaliyo rolls her eyes.  
“Yeah, yeah, miss protocol, you don’t have to show off all the time. Don’t think it matters anyway. I mean, who says Imperius wouldn’t set a trap for us? It’s not like any Sith would care about us, even if she’s not human. We’re still criminals, you know.”

Now that they are both on the bridge, Cierah hears HK’s facial speakers initiating as he relays his own opinion.  
“Concession: For once, I actually find myself agreeing with miss Kaliyo, master. This seems like an unwise course of action.”

Cierah views him with even more doubt than she gave her chaotic friend.  
“…you’re with Kaliyo? Really?”

“Embarrassment: I know, it sends unnerving shocks through my internal processors as well, master.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you should perform some self-diagnostics later, just to be sure.”

“Agreement: I shall get to it as soon as possible.”

Looking over her shoulder, Kaliyo gives them both a somewhat vicious smirk.  
“Hey assholes, I’m _right here_.”

Cierah offers her an amused stare in return, one that almost appear challenging. Would Kaliyo actually dare? Unlikely.  
“Oh, I’m very well aware.  
To get back to our mission, I would like to remind both of you that this is not a big station, but a moderately sized ship. It’s not even a cruiser.”

Kaliyo arches her brow skeptically.  
“You think that matters? They can still set traps. In fact, seems even more likely to me, as ships are much more disposable.”

“Hesitant acknowledgement: She has a point once more, master. I would still recommend staying alert.”

Perhaps it’s useless to fight them in this. They clearly won’t give in and this is why Cierah sighs.  
“Fine. You can carry weapons and stand by to shoot the entire crew on my signal, should thing go awry. Does that make you feel better?”

“Hmm, yeah, a lil’ bit”, Kaliyo admits.

“Delighted approval: Indeed, I believe this is an appropriate solution. I shall take the explosive rounds with me, just in case.”

Thankfully, she does get some support from Raina at least.  
“Just so you know, sir, I promise I shall stand ready too, but unlike the others, I actually believe in this plan.”

Cierah takes a few steps closer and gently pats her protégé’s shoulder.  
“I know, Raina. You are usually the sensible one.”

The younger agent smiles.  
“I don’t know, sir. I feel you provide a lot of that as well.”

“I’m glad one of us feels that way”, Cierah says, making Raina giggle.

Once the other ship come within view, the duo in the pilot seats flies the Rogue Warden closer and do their best to aid the docking procedure. This one does not have a huge hangar bay, which means they’ll have to be connected on the outside.  
In the meantime, Cierah and HK head towards the airlock and await to be the first ones that shall meet with their allies.

As the doors slide open, they see four people on the other side – three of them are soldiers in special red imperial armor with rifles in their hands. In the middle of these troopers stands a woman in a much neater outfit, a simple black uniform. She has short dark blonde hair, fair skin and green eyes. In her hand, she holds a datapad and compared to the soldiers, she is only equipped with a pistol, which hangs at her belt.  
She seems quite unsure when Cierah and the droid walks onto the ship, but then straightens her back and salutes, trying to look as proper as possible and offer respect.

“Oh…sir! Uh, welcome to the Languished Flame.”

Cierah arches her brow skeptically as she views this woman and then folds her arms.  
“Thank you. At ease. Who are you and are you aware of my identity?”

She clears her throat and settles down slightly, but still appears quite tense.  
“Katha Niar, sir. Eight years with the Ministry of Logistics, but newly assigned as a black ops coordinator.”

When she came here, Cierah was both suspicious and a little hopeful. It would be nice to work with another imperial team of some sort, but perhaps she should’ve kept her expectations low. She certainly hadn’t anticipated those specific words.  
“…newly assigned?”

“I…yes, times being what they are, sir. I am all he could spare, apparently. Along with the soldiers, that is.”

“He?”

“Well, yes. Darth Marr, I mean. He has placed me with what currently exists of the remnants of Intelligence and he gave me the position of a coordinator. Seems my prior experiences with Logistics are useful for this job.”

Cierah furrows her brow and glances between all four people. The soldiers’ stances appear to grow somewhat tenser with that look, especially when Raina and Kaliyo join them too. The numbers are even now.  
“That’s not the information I was sent. It was Darth Imperius who told me of this situation.”

Katha blinks confusedly.  
“Imperius? Uh, well, I’m not aware of all the details, sir. All I know is that Darth Marr assigned us here.”

The agent closes her eye and sighs, cursing internally. Damn Sith and their stupid politics.  
“I hate misunderstandings of this nature, but I suppose I shall have to confirm it with Imperius later.  
That said, you never fully answered my questions.”

“What? Oh, yes, of course. The information we received told us that you were a former top Imperial Intelligence agent, but not much else. That’s why you were given the role of leading this team, sir.”

It seems Valcera left out a few details, which is probably advantageous for now. Does Marr know the truth? She doesn’t really care either way.  
“I see. Call me Cierah, then – Commander Cierah.”

“Yes, Commander.”

She gestures at the rest of her team.  
“This is Kaliyo, Raina and HK-51. A few more are back in the ship, but they are occupied with other tasks. All of them are my associates and team. I trust them more than anyone else. The bird is Menace, my pet. Don’t mind him.”

Seeming to acknowledge when his name is mentioned, the owl flaps his wings briefly, but doesn’t do much else. For now, he continues to stare at the soldiers with his big eyes, making them somewhat nervous.  
Katha is more startled by another fact.  
“HK? As in…one of the Hunter-Killer droids, sir?”

“That’s correct, he is. Will that be a problem?”

Katha briefly glances in the droid’s direction, his yellow sensory eyes looking right at her.  
“Well, I…don’t know. They never mentioned any droids of this caliber, but…if it’s-…  
If _he’s_ with you, then I have no objections, Commander.”

Cierah snorts. She had sort of wondered how intimidating HK might be to others, but hasn't gotten to see it very often. It’s not like they meet a lot of people in the shadows.  
“Don’t worry, he will behave. Won’t you, HK?”

HK nods sharply.  
“Confirmation: Yes, master. I will only fire in uncontrollable bursts at your command. And potentially during minor malfunctions.  
Appeasement: My sensors have acknowledged your tense stances, but this is nothing to be concerned for, organics. My malfunctions only happen once every 52.4 hours without proper regeneration cycles. It has only killed twelve bystanders during the last 308 standard imperial days. It’s an excellent rate, I assure you.”

The aspect of lying and joking, in order to make other people nervous, is something they’ve seen very little of so far regarding HK, but it appears he’s capable of understanding when to use it. It makes Kaliyo grin, Raina smile and shake her head, while Cierah merely stands there seeming pleased that he plays along.  
That said, it is a little bit scary how well these two get along now, though. They make for frighteningly efficient partners.

Shortly after this, Cierah and the others follow Katha through the corridors, as she intends to inspect the rest of the ship.  
“So, coordinator, tell me of the rest of this team I’m in control of.”

Katha clears her throat.  
“Yes, of course, sir. Allow me to introduce them”, she says and gestures at the soldiers behind them. “The members you see here are from a special company, known as the ‘Dusk Edge’, a group that has been performing difficult assignments and black ops missions for a few years. Their Captain could unfortunately not be present, as he was needed elsewhere, but I assure you that they will perform according to your specifications. We are all here to follow your orders.”

They do seem like quite sturdy soldiers, although Cierah wonders if the particular ones at her back really have what it takes for this type of work. A brief scan reveals that they are definitely on edge – no pun intended. Perhaps it’s simply because of Imperial Intelligence’s reputation.  
“And you? What are your qualifications?”

“My expertise lies in administration, coordination and statistical analysis. This is why I will stand by to provide updated information on our mission progress, handle any intel we receive and give advice where needed.”

“What about tactics?”

“Oh. I…was hoping you could handle that, sir, since you will be in the field. I’m not much of a soldier, I’m afraid. I can fire a gun, but that’s it.”

The response makes Cierah wonder what the real situation is. Can the Empire really not spare anyone else, do they not trust her enough, or do they not see this mission having enough value to utilize better resources? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. She will make do.  
“I know the mission we are about to embark on already, but I want to hear what you have to say. Do you realize what we will be getting ourselves into?”

“Well, from our mission briefing, it appears this assignment is based on recently obtained intel during some sort of failed attack on imperial space. It has given us the location of valuable New Empire databases, on one of the colony worlds they conquered. We are meant to slice and steal the data within, unless I’m mistaken.”

Compared to Katha, Cierah knows that this info was acquired by none other than Darth Imperius herself, during the abduction attempt of Lana Beniko’s parents, by Darth Zhorrid. No need for the rest of the team to know this, though.  
“Very good. And you know of the planet we’re aiming for, I hope?”

“Yes, sir – Anjak Prime, an important resource-rich colony world, which was one of those that the New Empire targeted first. It is too far out to be a concern for our Empire’s navy, at this time.”  
She looks down at the datapad in her hands.  
“From what we know, the citizens are currently on lockdown by the New Empire’s fleet and very few ships are allowed to leave. Local resistance is limited, but not non-existent.  
The way to attain what we are after can be done through one of their ships, but it would be easier to target a base on the surface that was built after the invasion. We have the access codes for it and can fake signatures for any of the patrols that might try to stop us.”

“For us, that will not be an issue. Our ship is equipped with a cloaking device, which should make it easier for us to slip through.”

“Oh, right. Well, that will be convenient to use then.  
Our team has also been reinforced with a number of slicers, to help monitor the situation and scramble communications while you go down to the surface.  
While our goal is to the get into the databases, there has not been anything specified regarding what to do with the rebels. We are not specifically forbidden from interacting with them, but Darth Marr told us that they are not a priority.”

Cierah isn’t all too surprised, despite the fact that they could be useful at a later date. Right now, the Empire can’t really do much to aid them with materials.  
“Would you disapprove of actions that help the rebels against the New Empire?”

Katha shrugs.  
“I…don’t know. My orders are to obtain the information and assist the agent – you – in whatever way possible. I will leave any decision making to you, sir.”

“So, if it’s what I want, you will help me.”

Katha views Cierah with some uncertainty, not quite sure what she should say here. She is likely well aware that she’s not really Imperial Intelligence, not like Cierah was.  
“If…that is what you prefer, Commander, then yes. I won’t oppose whatever actions you deem necessary, I swear.”

At this time, she seems quite tense, and perhaps that’s not such a strange notion. Many are, in Cierah’s presence.  
Raina appears to want to ease the situation and smiles at Katha, putting a hand on her shoulder.  
“You shouldn’t be so nervous, miss Niar. The Commander’s questions are not meant to punish you – she is just like this.”

Cierah raises an eyebrow in a combination of doubt and surprise, while she looks at her protégé.  
“Excuse me, but are you criticizing my behavior, Temple?”

Raina straightens her back, in order to stand at attention, but there’s still a slightly humorous smile on her lips, like she’s not fully serious.  
“Not at all, sir! Just giving our coordinator helpful tips, so that she can survive this encounter.”

“The encounter with me, you mean.”

“Yes sir.”

Cierah sighs, thoroughly unamused. At the same time, Kaliyo smirks.  
“Yeah, you know what I do? If she gets a little bit too annoying or bossy, I just say something shocking, to catch her off-guard.”

Do they have to group up on her, when she’s trying to act like a good team leader? Perhaps this was inevitable.  
“…Kaliyo, stop this right now or I will-“

“Or you’ll what? Push me into one of these rooms and fuck me? I thought that’s only what we did on Tuesdays.”

It appears that her words have the intended effect, or possibly even beyond what she had expected. Katha and the soldiers are stunned into silence, while Cierah slowly turns a very sharp glare in Kaliyo’s direction. Raina holds a hand over her mouth, looking very embarrassed, but also suppresses a giggle.  
“Kaliyo…”

“HK, you may need to hold her back, if she explodes”, Raina suggests.

“Skepticism: I am unsure if I’m adequately equipped to prevent violent outbursts from master Cierah, but I shall try my best.”

Thankfully, Cierah takes a few deep breaths that calms her down. When she unclenches one of her hands, it is quite pale.  
She turns to look at Katha.  
“I have a feeling that this is going to be a very long mission, somehow. Do you have alcohol on board?”

Katha glances down at her datapad, quickly trying to search through their cargo list.  
“I…shall see what I can find, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Katha is a little bit more nervous here than in-game, since she was like, literally just assigned to this position. This is her first task in this new job, compared to the three months she had in Rise of the Hutt Cartel._   
>  _This mission doesn't go to Makeb, but Katha will be used for that later._


	24. Flowchart of carnage

When the Sith Empire launched its assault on the Galactic Republic, it’s hard to say if any imperial leader realized how the war would develop. They lost their Emperor, several members of the Dark Council, some army divisions and fleets are trapped in locations where they can do no good for the Empire’s overall progress, and there’s still quite a bit of chaos at home. On top of this, the New Empire appeared and sent ripples throughout the nation, in a way that the Republic never could.

Very gradually, the Sith Empire’s defensive line has been forced backwards, as it would be stretched too thin if it has to fight on so many fronts at once. Defending against the New Empire _and_ fighting the Republic wasn’t something they had planned for. It’s apparent to outsiders that most imperials are scrambling to achieve something in this war, anything, in order to avoid total defeat. This is a conflict they started, and they can’t last forever.  
So far, they have been holding on against the Republic, even if they have turned into prey instead of aggressors. Unfortunately, this has put them in a terrible position against the New Empire’s forces. The newcomers may be smaller, but also very effective.

One who has attempted to seize the advantage of this situation is Darth Serevin, a pureblood Sith who once served the Sith Empire and the Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy, before he switched sides.  
He, like many others, realized how intriguing Malgus' proposal truly was, but perhaps not for the same reasons. Conquest is one thing, but he saw much more potential in the ideals of diversity and renewal that Malgus offered. He would perhaps not call himself a believer, but he has certainly been inspired by what he has experienced thus far.

Currently, Serevin is standing in a room within one of the most impressive buildings that this large city on the imperial colony world Tezzat Sorav has to offer. Seizing this planet will give the New Empire a good vantage point, to park their ships and launch themselves closer to the Sith Empire’s core worlds.  
This planet is not coordinated into one single government, but a few very large ones and this building belongs to the President of one such nation. It’s a male zabrak with short black hair, orange skin, black tattoos and an array of horns mostly around the front half of his head.

“Your world is losing, President. Surely you have seen this already. I believe it’s time to make the wiser decision, to stop clinging to the ways of tradition.”  
Serevin is wearing a set of purple and white robes, his hair pulled back in a very neatly crafted hairstyle. He keeps his arms behind him as he looks out through the window – there, around and above the capital city, are New imperial ships, vehicles, siege weapons and troops in the distance.  
“With an allegiance to the New Empire, your world can become something so much greater, more than you ever were with the old incompetent administration, ruled by crippling bureaucracy and unruly politics.”

The president hesitates somewhat with his response, straightening the indigo-colored suit he’s wearing. He’s clearly outmatched here and Serevin almost thrives in the emotions of doubt and fear flowing from him.  
“You have mentioned this before, my lord.”

“And I mean it.”  
Serevin gestures at the windows.  
“Do you see the fighting out there, the overwhelming might of our forces? The New Empire has seized everything that it has encountered thus far, and the old decrepit nation cannot stand against us. It is only a matter of time before we conquer Ziost, Dromund Kaas and the rest of the central worlds, which will herald the demise of the entire old order. Your only chance for some kind of success in this scenario is to join us, mister President. Tell your soldiers to stand down and surrender. You will be part of something greater.”

The zabrak takes a deep breath, truly absorbing the sight of the battle outside. It’s quite far away and yet so close. The city does have several protective barriers, but if the troops could get into the President’s building, what else can they do?  
“You…make a compelling argument, my lord.”

Serevin smiles to himself, rather pleased. This man is not weak per se, but torn between two different notions – duty and allegiance versus sparing himself and his citizens the misery of either defeat or death.  
Some of this uncertainty is probably built on the fact that the pureblood is not alone in here. He brought several allies with him into this facility, who are all positioned around the fairly spacious room. They’re waiting to see what will happen, whether there will be more fighting or if Serevin can convince the President.

They took control of this building a few hours ago. The Darth joined them specifically because he believes that this world will be useful for the future campaigns, rather than be made into a carcass of some kind. If he can convince the leadership that this is preferable, then surely the citizens will follow. It may not have worked for Decimus on Corellia, but Tezzat Sorav is an imperial world, with different ideals and viewpoints on the New Empire’s forces. Some may be open to surrender, after all, now that the Emperor is gone or absent, or whatever he’s doing. Doesn’t really matter.

He directs himself towards the President and gestures at the battle.  
“What would you prefer, hmm? See your world crushed beneath the strength of the New Empire like the rest…”  
Slowly, he shifts his stance and offers his hand instead.  
“…or join us and eventually wipe out the Dark Council at our side?”

This act of manipulative negotiation is something that Serevin revels in and he is quite good at it. He knows that this President will give in eventually, providing the Darth with another victory.  
Unfortunately, just as he’s about to consider the proposal and make a few potential requests in defeat, they hear some noise outside. The President quickly turns to look at the doors several meters away.  
“What’s that?”

Serevin’s smile disperses and he glances at the exit with a furrowed brow. He dismisses it with a wave of his hand.  
“Nothing more than the last twitches of your pathetic guards, I assume. Surely nothing to be concerned for.  
Do not think of such things now, mister President. What you should focus on is your own dire situation. Victory or humiliation – that is the question at hand. You may only accept one.”

Seconds after this statement, Serevin senses something in the air, which surprises even him. There is power in the vicinity, the strength of the Force. He hadn’t felt it until now, and yet suddenly it comes sweeping over him like a crushing wave. What is that coming from? A powerful Sith of some sort? There should be none on this world, as the Empire would surely not send anyone important here. Had the gathered information been incorrect?

The Darth snaps his fingers and points at one of his guards, a mandalorian.  
“You, go survey the situation and report back.”

This one glances at the other mandalorians, shrugs and then heads off. However, just as he reaches the door, there’s a fierce vibration through the floor, like a shockwave. It makes everyone stop and look towards the exit, wondering what the hell is going on. Another one occurs, and then a third. Suddenly, they hear cracking sound from the door and as if something is being bent within the hinges of this creation.

Before the mandalorian has a chance to go anywhere, the door and its frame abruptly comes flying off the wall and crashes straight down on top of him, crushing him beneath it.  
As dust fills the entrance of the room, a tall and strong individual steps inside and walks right over the debris.  
“Fortunately, no one from this planet will be surrendering today. Maybe the ‘New’ Empire likes to believe that we are all so afraid of their power, but they break easier than one might think.”

As his guards draw their weapons, Serevin widens his eyes in surprise.  
“You…the Emperor’s Wrath?! How did you get in here?”

Zal’riva walks forward pretty confidently, standing there in her heavy armor and the grey coat flowing around her. She must have been the one that broke the entrance open. Who else would have such raw power?  
“Through the door, of course.”

The others hear a snort from behind the twi’lek and a chiss comes to stand next to her. He has a small smile on his lips as he folds his arms.  
“Good one, master.”

Joining him, but on the twi’lek’s other side, are two human soldiers and a talz. There is a lot of noise several meters behind them, meaning that they probably brought other forces to tackle whatever Serevin could provide.  
The Darth frowns at Zal and then draws a red lightsaber, igniting it immediately.  
“You think you can just burst in here and stop us? I’m not sure what your Emperor believes you are capable of, but you are too late. This planet is on the verge of defeat.”

She tilts her head amusedly.  
“Is it now?  
Mister President, has your nation surrendered to the New Empire yet?”

The zabrak is backing off, trying to gain some distance from the rest. He is not a fighter.  
“I…n-no, my lord. I have not yet signed their deal.”

“See, Serevin? It appears they still stand with the Empire and _not_ Malgus and his deluded followers. Not everyone can make the smarter choice, I guess.”

The pureblood only briefly frowns in a disappointed manner at the president, before he directs his eyes to Zal.  
“We shall see about that. If you and your paltry forces believe you’re enough to stop us, then you have sorely misjudged your own strength. You see the people around me?”  
He indicates the rest of his guards – mandalorians, Hutt Cartel troops, imperial soldiers and even a small group of voss.  
“These are all united under Emperor Malgus, because they believe in his vision. You could have done so as well, Wrath, but I see you are more foolish than when we last met.”

Unfortunately, Zal does not look particularly impressed. She nonchalantly grabs her weapon and then glances towards her apprentice.  
“Lakorev, you take care of the Cartel lackeys, I’ll handle Serevin, his soldiers and the voss, the rest go for the mandalorians?”

Serevin blinks confusedly.  
“ _Handle?_ How dare-“

Lakorev smirks and shrugs at Zal.  
“Sounds like a decent plan. Drinks on you later, master?”

“Only if you bring back a trophy.”

Without waiting for Serevin to discuss it further, Zal strides forward, activates her lightsaber and leaps at him, forcing him to block her.  
At the same time, Lakorev pulls out two lightsabers – a red and a yellow one. It appears the troops have understood what’s going to happen and while the mandalorians already engages Quinn, Pierce and Broonmark, the Cartel warriors all turn their gazes towards the chiss. There are six of them in total. They mostly pull out vibroswords and techstaves, increasing his smirk.

“Just so you know beforehand – I’m only an apprentice. Go a little bit easy on me, will you?”

They either laugh or snort at him in a mocking fashion, and Lakorev feels a sensation that he had hoped to instill them with – overconfidence.  
The group advances on him, as the apprentice allows them the first move. They immediately attempt to surround him, to catch him in a circle of some sort, which forces him to retreat. A large weequay is the first to move in, slashing at him with a vibrosword which he blocks, before a human swings a techstaff towards his head, making him duck and back away.

Knowing he can’t allow himself to get boxed in, he attempts to gain some distance and he’s in luck, as there are all sorts of obstacles in here. Long tables, chairs, holographic projectors, sofas; this must be some kind of meeting room, which the big windows would indicate as well.  
Lakorev does his best to use all of this to his advantage. Whenever they try to advance towards him and close him in a pincer move, he leaps away to the next defensive position, not allowing them the upper hand.

To begin with, he gives them the impression that he’s merely retreating and defending himself. He never attempts more than a brief counterattack, nothing that would cause them any problems. Even if his facial expression is fairly calm, he hopes this makes them believe that he’s feeling overwhelmed.  
He is pretty good at parrying, though, as his reflexes are surprisingly swift with the dual lightsabers. Some strikes are too heavy for him to block for long, but it’s impressive how quickly he can seal off what appears to be a gap in his defenses and deflect even flanking attacks.

What none of them know is that this is his plan. He isn’t simply retreating, but analyzing them all, assessing their strengths, attack patterns, preferred angles, and then drawing what weaknesses he can from that.  
Eventually, he figures that he should test them too. With the aid of the Force, he grabs items and tosses boxes, lamps and even chairs at all of them. One or two appears to be quite sluggish or have pretty poor peripheral vision and get hit. Some of the others are quick to dodge, while the last one simply swats objects away with a staff.

A pretty large nikto glares at him and swings her vibroblade wildly at him.  
“C’mon, you coward! Fight us, dammit! Are you really a Sith? If so, then your old Empire or whatever you call yourselves must be a worthless place for warriors to live in.”

Lakorev takes this opportunity to shrug, a smile still on his lips.  
“Well, I will admit that we’re not always perfect, but if you ask my master, I’m sure she would agree that it’s not wise to underestimate us.”

“Hah! Is that coming from a chiss, one of the cowards in the galaxy? All your people do is sit in your little corner in the dark and hide. Perhaps you should go home to ‘em and leave the fighting to the real warriors.”

It appears they got to him somewhat, as his smile suddenly shifts into something slightly vicious.  
“I see. You have an inadequate opinion of my people then. Perhaps it is time that I stop messing around and show what we are capable of.”

Lakorev wouldn’t call himself particularly emotional, but he also can’t allow such insults to go unpunished for long. He realizes how much others may underestimate his kind for surrendering to the Empire, but none of them know the truth.  
When a big houk comes at him and delivers a devastating slash, he displays his impressive reflexes by ducking beneath it. Further down, he angles his feet to shoot himself forward, charging into his opponent rather than away from him. As he passes by this person, he takes his lightsabers with him and carves right into the houk’s waist.

The houk is so shocked by it that he merely stops, feeling the pain overwhelm him and it takes a moment for his mind to acknowledge what happens. Soon after, a gap opens in his body and he falls apart, practically having been split in half.  
In the same move, Lakorev uses the Force to toss a chair at another nearby opponent, stunning the human.

While one is on the verge of death and another is temporarily distracted, Lakorev sees how the vibroblade falls out of the houk’s hands. He grabs it with the Force and then sends it flying forward like a spear. Due to the general chaos of the situation, not everyone sees what happens. While two manages to dodge, the weequay in the group does not. The last he sees is how the sword impales his body, flinging him across the room and crashes into some other tables.

Most of the group is shocked by this sudden shift in combat, but one single enemy - the nikto woman - throws herself at him, which compels him to lift his weapons and block. The two duel for a few seconds, exchanging strike after strike, but Lakorev’s stance has changed and he is much more aggressive than he was to begin with. The guile, however, has not vanished.

The nikto is clearly physically stronger than him, but is not as adept at situational awareness. Lakorev leads her right up to one of her living comrades and when he senses that this person is behind him, he evades the nikto’s next slash, forcing her to collide with her ally.  
When these two are close enough to each other, he uses the Force to knock them together, making them slam into a nearby wall simultaneously, stunning them in the process. Lakorev seizes this opportunity to leap at their position and dig his lightsabers right into their chests, one for each.

Four down, two left. The chiss turns around, seeing how a cathar and another human looks at him in surprise. He smirks confidently at both of them while he casually spins his lightsabers around in his hands.  
“Oh, did I forget to mention? I was the best in my class at lightsaber techniques and tactical assessment. Perhaps I shouldn’t have left that detail out.”

The remaining duo seems to be both puzzled and overwhelmed by what just happened, which means they don’t try to fight in a unified manner. The cathar suddenly roars and charges at him, filled with rage. A foolish thing to do, obviously.  
Lakorev waits the few seconds it takes for her to reach him, simply staring at her when she comes sprinting. She’s pretty big too, just like some of the others, but not too much for him to handle. He telekinetically grabs a nearby plate on one of the tables and directs it right to her face. It crashes into her head and breaks, halting her charge. When her eyes briefly open, the last thing she sees is how Lakorev jumps at her and swings his lightsaber, swiftly decapitating her.

With only one Cartel warrior left, this human looks at the chiss in fear, when Lakorev faces him. He drops his techstaff and holds up his hands, his body shaking slightly.  
“I…I give up! Please, I never-…I was just paid to be here. Spare me!”

Lakorev watches him for a few seconds, and it’s hard to say what his red eyes are trying to tell the human. Eventually, he looks amused and begins striding towards his opponent.  
“Mercy? Perhaps you haven’t heard of Sith before. We tend not to leave survivors.”

“No, please!”

As the last Cartel warrior dies, it occurs almost simultaneously with the fall of the last mandalorian in the room. Pierce and Broonmark have taken a few grievous wounds, but Quinn is currently doing his best to patch them up.  
In the last section of the room, the President has witnessed how the Emperor’s Wrath has been battling her opponents, but hardly even taken a scratch. The voss are all alive, but unconscious, the treacherous soldiers are dead, while Serevin desperately attempts to defend himself. Unfortunately, he is more of a diplomat than a warrior and Zal can easily disarm him.

Once his weapon is gone, the twi’lek punches him in the left cheek and he falls to the floor, coughing violently. He has had to endure several of those hits during this fight, as she seemed unwilling to cut him open.  
When he directs his glowing red eyes to her, he sees her purple lightsaber a few centimeters from his face.  
“I’m sorry that you chose this route, to stand with traitors”, she tells him. “Your insights on another path for the Sith would have been interesting to discuss. Our Empire needs such mindsets.”

Serevin breathes heavily and glares at her. He spits on the floor and then wipes his mouth.  
“Your Empire…has failed and never understood the true potential that it possesses. It will fall, sooner or later.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. What is sure, however, is that this world will not.”  
She leans down and grabs top of his robes, lifting him up to his feet. The ease she does it with is ridiculous, as if he weighed nothing to her.  
“You are coming with me. I believe it is your forces that shall surrender today.”

“We shall see…”

When she turns around to address the rest of her team, she smiles almost proudly at Lakorev.  
“Doesn’t seem like you had much of an issue with them. Well done, apprentice. Maybe you deserve your place at my side after all.”

Lakorev sheathes his weapons, puts a hand to his chest and then bows politely.  
“I try my best to please you, master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So yeah, he's pretty good at it, at least against these Hutt Cartel troops. He may only be an apprentice, but the player characters do some pretty impressive stuff when they're just apprentices too, so I figured this would be suitable. He's not quite as overwhelming as his master, but he knows what he's doing._


	25. Elected targets

It happened so suddenly, or that’s what it felt like. Cytharat went from being locked in isolation, possibly condemned to never see the light of day again, to becoming a productive member of the Sith Empire once more. To him, it’s both a strange and refreshing sensation. After having been trapped inside that prison for a while, he never expected to one day be set free, much less be given a second chance. Life can take peculiar turns.

It’s not like his situation is without issues, though. Many people – both imperials and Sith – view him with suspicion or possibly even anger, for being among them like this. He can’t say if they hold him personally responsible for the pain they suffered or the unfortunate disadvantage they now have in the war, but either way, he doesn’t blame them. Cytharat knows what his former master did to the Empire, especially this Sphere. Sure, he may not have agreed with Malgus and he did actively oppose him, but he can’t ignore his part in making the Darth stronger.

Thankfully, there is at least one person who does not view him with anything but professionalism and a friendly attitude. She treats him as a colleague and with the same politeness she gives pretty much everyone else here. It’s fortunate that this is exactly the person he’s moving to meet at this time. As the door to her office slides open, he sees the advisor sitting there behind her desk.  
This area is not particularly large, but it does help seal off any prying eyes. Since this woman doesn’t have any real title, though, he wonders how she managed to obtain it. It’s also somewhat amusing that she is constantly seen as the one in charge around this section, even when other Sith enter the department, with some Darths being the exception.

Lana looks up from her desk and lifts her hand, gesturing for him to enter. On the table, Cytharat can see a small holoprojector, with another human appearing as a hologram. He doesn’t recognize her, but he notices the frown aimed at the advisor.  
“There, now you have the files. Satisfied?”

It’s unusual to hear anyone using such a defiant tone with a Sith, even more so that the Sith only offers a smile in return, which is what Lana does at this time.  
“Very. Thank you for the help, Cierah.”

The other woman sighs and shakes her head.  
“That’s enough favors from me. There won’t be another. Remember that I work for Imperius, not you.”

Lana merely rolls her eyes in an amused fashion. She’s probably assuming this won’t be the last.  
“Yes, yes, I know that. Speak to you later.”

“ _No_ , you won’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

As the call ends, Lana redirects her attention to Cytharat and holds up a datapad in her hand.  
“You arrived just in time. I have them.”

The pureblood stops a few meters away and puts his hands behind his back.  
“The what?”

“The candidates, of course.”

He widens his eyes in surprise, certainly not having anticipated this result.  
“Wait, what? How did you…?”

Lana doesn’t often look very smug, but that’s the expression she’s showing right now.  
“I have certain contacts who can acquire this type of information. Let me show you what I have so far, and then we must go speak with Val.”

“Imperius? Why?”

“Well, you probably know who’s on the list already, and she must help us with certain…persuasive acts. She has the position for it.”

He contemplates her response for a few moments and then nods.  
“Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose you’re correct. Well then, let’s get to it.”  
  


* * *

  
After discussing the contents of the information Lana had collected, the duo relocates to another section of the Imperial Citadel - the department where one can usually find Valcera. Like always, most corners of this place are busy with various administrative tasks, but it’s hard to tell exactly what they’re focusing on at this time. With Val in charge of Dromund Kaas right now, do they help her with elements of this or merely continuing to deal with Ancient Knowledge’s already fairly abundant assignments? Best not to ask.

Either way, when they arrive at the office, they see that the mirialan is already on her feet, currently trying to gather a bunch of items into a bag and she looks fairly troubled. She barely even notices their entrance, which is why Lana clears her throat.  
“Val, are you busy?”

Cytharat still hasn’t fully gotten used to Lana using this nickname so casually with a Dark Councilor, but he doesn’t say anything to oppose it. It is true that they are intimate, and it would perhaps be strange to use ranks in every situation. At the same time, in public, titles seem more appropriate. Then again, that’s not really his business.  
Unfortunately, Val doesn’t have good news for them. She only glances in their direction, before she continues packing.

“In fact, I am. I have to leave soon, as there’s been an incident.”

Lana’s brow furrows with a slight bit of worry.  
“Incident? What kind?”

Val stops briefly, takes a deep breath and shakes her head.  
“I managed to close down several slave compounds outside of Terlo city recently and worked through the bureaucracy in order to get all of the former slaves official citizenship and potential new places to live.  
Unfortunately, the former overseers are being difficult and are trying to act against my decision. The edict has already gone out and they are free people, but these overseers…well, they’re currently breaking the law out of their own close-minded principles. I have to go deal with this personally.”

It seems her task is more critical than they had expected or preferred, and it makes Lana quite unsure.  
“I…I see. That does sound very important, and I don’t wish to get in the way of it, but…”  
She hesitates, hoping that she can do this without obstructing Val's work.  
“Could you spare us just a few minutes?”

Val turns a skeptical gaze at her girlfriend.  
“A few minutes? I’m not sure I have that much, Lana.”

“Yes, I understand this situation is dire, but what we want to show you is also rather critical. It concerns the future of the Empire.”

When Val glances between the two, it almost looks like she hadn’t noticed Cytharat was even here. She seems reluctant at first, but both of them try to appear as determined as possible.  
“You’re completely sure this requires my attention?”

“We could speak of it later, but…I think it’s wise to act upon it as soon as possible, yes.”

Val sighs and waves for them to come closer.  
“Fine, fine. A few minutes, but that is all I’m giving you. After that, I really do have to leave.”

“I know, and I promise that I shall not hold you any longer than necessary.”  
Once she and Cytharat has walked inside, she offers the datapad in her hand to Val.  
“Lately, I’ve been conducting some investigations and recruited the aid of others to help me obtain some very interesting information. It regards the candidates for the position of leadership over the Sphere of Military Offense – Malgus’ replacement.”

It appears this comes as quite as a surprise, as Val is taken aback.  
“What? A replacement? I didn't even know this was on the table."  
She briefly browses through the initial text on the datapad, before she faces Lana again.  
“How could you possibly have acquired this type of information?”

Lana does her utmost to appear neutral and hide any potential guilt. She does have to clear her throat to begin with, however.  
“Well, I spoke to…a certain contact of yours.”

Val studies Lana’s expression, while the advisor herself keeps her eyes elsewhere. A frown appears on the mirialan’s brow.  
“Wait, you’re talking about-…  
How did you find her?”

“I may have…erm, looked through a list of some of the private frequencies you have.”

The Councilor shuts her eyes and moves a hand over her face.  
“Lana…”

“It was just this once, I swear! I knew I needed her help, as she’s the only one who can do this without being seen.”

Doesn’t seem to appease Val’s increasing worry, though. She sharply turns her attention to Cytharat.  
“What do you know about this?”

He straightens his position, almost standing at attention when he’s being addressed so suddenly.  
“Nothing, my lord. I only noticed that she spoke to someone earlier and then she showed me these files. I have not been told any details.”

Val continues to watch him suspiciously for a few moments, before she sighs and discards it.  
“Fine. Lana, normally, I would tell you that acting like this is dangerous…but I also realize what you’ve obtained for me here is quite intriguing. Or Cierah, rather.”

Lana seems dissatisfied with that conclusion and folds her arms as she stares at Val.  
“Hey, that’s not fair. I dug around a bit too.”

“If you say so. Mind telling me what I’m looking at here then?”

“Of course. Currently, there are three candidates which appears to be favored to a higher extent than any other. Cytharat and I are…keener on one of them.”

Val snorts with only a hint of amusement.  
“You mean one that you think will be more advantageous for both of you.”

“Not just us, but the Sphere as a whole.”

“And I sincerely agree, my lord”, Cytharat adds.

Lana moves her hand across the screen of the datapad that Val is holding.  
“This one here is the first of these three most likely candidates – Darth Arho.”  
Val sees a few images on display, mixed between official photos and potential ones taken by security cameras. It shows a human with dark brown skin, brown eyes and a bald head. He wears quite a heavy armor too, in most of them.  
“Arho is currently being favored by Darth Karrid and Darth Mortis both. It is the former of these that have mentioned him the most in various messages to her allies and contacts.”

Val decides to look at Lana instead of the pad.  
“He is not your choice?”

Lana tilts her head back and forth in thought.  
“Well…he is, admittedly, one of the better combat leaders in the Empire. His actions and tactics have led to several victories against the Republic in the past. Unfortunately, while he is a good soldier and field commander, I would say he is perhaps not the ideal choice for the Dark Council. He can be quite aggressive and warlike.  
For example, he eagerly supported the idea of invading the Republic and his current foremost suggestion is that we should focus our entire offensive forces on crushing the Republic first, before we deal with the New Empire.”

A troubled expression descends upon Val as she taps a finger on her chin.  
“Hmm. I can see how that would be a problem, yes. Can’t say I agree with that strategy either. It seems quite reckless to me.”

“I’m sure he is very adept at strategy and tactics in general, but to a certain extent, you’re right. This is why we would prefer that he keeps his station and doesn’t take over half of the military.”

Heading towards the opposite side of Val, Cytharat joins her and indicates the next person on the list.  
“The second candidate that is favored by some of your other colleagues, is Darth Soverus. It appears the one who agrees with him the most, and is even prepared to propose him as a nomination, is Darth Ravage. Darth Arvade also appears to be backing him slightly.”

Val arches her brow skeptically. The man on the screen is another bald one, but a tall pureblood instead. He has sharp eyebrow tendrils, and spurs from his chin, with yellow eyes.  
“Arvade _and_ Ravage? That seems unusual.”

“Not entirely, my lord, as this man is an example of something they both agree with, on certain levels.  
Soverus is a more patient and contemplative leader than Arho, but in some regards, he is also…traditional as well.”

This makes the mirialan frown.  
“Define ‘traditional’ in this instance.”

“Well…it regards aliens.”

The scowl deepens.  
“Are you saying he objects to my anti-slavery methods?”

Cytharat coughs somewhat awkwardly, already sensing how the anger is building inside of Val. Not specifically aimed at him, of course, but he still acts as the messenger here.  
“I…can’t say for sure, my lord, but he does often favor humans and purebloods to fight by his side. He was once an apprentice to the late Darth Vengean, and he does have a lot of support among the older members of our Order.  
It is true that he is not exactly involved with the processes and institutions that govern our laws, but if I were to guess, he would probably support other ideals than yours, my lord.”

They notice how Val’s hand clenches somewhat, like she’s about to fling the datapad away, but she manages to calm herself shortly after.  
“Well, I’m not going to stand by and let him into the Council, at least. We have not even done half of what I wish to accomplish within the Empire and I will not allow another step back to occur.”

Cytharat and Lana shares a brief glance.  
“We assumed as much”, says the former.

Val moves her hand over the screen, scrolling down to some of the texts below the pictures.  
“I am not surprised that Ravage would want someone like this, as he is quite despicable himself, but I’m disappointed about Arvade’s choice.”

As Cytharat has nothing to say, Lana decides to add some information.  
“I suppose we cannot be entirely sure, but I don’t believe she wants him for the slavery. She likely thinks he has good traditional Sith values.”

“That’s _not_ an excuse and I certainly won’t accept it if this what she will use to justify such a preference.”

They don’t blame her, and Lana decides to proceed with what they were discussing.  
“At any rate, this is the last of the three and the one who happens to be our favorite.”  
They show Val another pureblood, with similar skin color and eyebrow tendrils as Soverus, but no spurs as beard, and his eyes are red. He is also shorter and compared to the previous two, he has neat brown hair. He wears armor like them, but his appears to be combined with robes, most of it in black.  
“This is Darth Arkous and he’s a bit of an outlier, even among the many military leaders. To be honest, when I first heard of him, I wasn’t entirely sure if I understood why he was with us. He’s somewhat vain and quite pompous in terms of disposition.  
However, reading more into his actions, I noticed that he has shown to be fairly capable in combat and with military leadership. His ambush and shock tactics have been very effective on the battlefields he has engaged in, but he only uses them when he believes the timing is most critical. For the most part, his views on war are quite passive.”

Val seems somewhat interested then as well, glad to hear a more optimistic description of someone. She turns to look at Lana.  
“He doesn’t like it?”

“Not entirely, no. He is against all-out assaults and the idea of constant war, preferring brief skirmishes and covert strikes.  
He made some enemies in the Sphere when he not only opposed the idea of starting another war with the Republic so soon, but also the dismantling of Imperial Intelligence. He believes we needed them to win this war.  
Best of all, he actually agrees with the ideas of Darth Malgus and Darth Serevin, that anti-alien polices will not improve our society. He thinks we should utilize all forces available to us, no matter the origin, and that a diversified Empire would be stronger than one which focuses on purity. As you might imagine, this has also gained him some scorn.”

If she was intrigued before, Val now looks quite positive.  
“This man sounds much more agreeable than I imagined. How come you hadn’t mentioned him before?”

Lana shrugs.  
“Like I said, I didn’t actually think highly of him. His attitude can be arrogant and somewhat theatrical. He argues for his opinions as if they are naturally correct, and any other conclusion would be stupid. I believe some people find him quite infuriating.”

Val gains a small smile as she shakes her head.  
“Almost seems too good to be true. Who is it that favors him?”

Cytharat is given the chance to answer this one.  
“According to this contact of yours, it is Darth Marr and Darth Vowrawn.”

“Huh. Well, Marr and I have worked together a lot recently, so I can see why he would prefer this Sith, but why Vowrawn?”

“Apparently, Cierah believes that Marr convinced him”, says Lana.  
“Marr probably wants someone who might be more inclined to transfer troops and ships to the defensive lines, rather than using overly offensive measures, and Arkous is likely the right man for this. I suppose Vowrawn’s support is some form of political favor to Marr, I don’t know.”

Val rolls her eyes.  
“Of course, I should’ve known. Never mind, then.  
What about Acina? Has any intel indicated who she favors?”

Lana shakes her head.  
“Unfortunately not. According to Cierah, either no one has asked her, or she has been too busy to care. It seems she’s a bit out of the loop, just like you.”

The Councilor stays silent for a few seconds after they’re done and tries to consider all of this information. Eventually, she emits a sigh.  
“Alright, you’ve told me what you know now. What do you want me to do about it? Did you tell me just to make me open to his nomination or do you want me to support him if Marr suggests it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be against this if that is what you prefer, but I suggest we go further than that. I think a bit of…promotional measures may be useful here.  
We could set up a meeting with Arkous, let you speak with and get to know him a little. If you do so in public, it might be seen as a political move of some sort, which could raise a lot of attention.  
I’m not sure if you realize, but you are very popular in the Empire right now. Not only are you seen as a rising star, but you make appearances among the people, you speak in terms of protecting the Empire and you try to hold us together. Many have pointed at you, Marr and Vowrawn as the most powerful and influential figures around at this time.”

Val snorts.  
“Sounds like you’re trying to work on my ego, darling. But, I suppose I’m not entirely against the notion of meeting with this man.”  
She shuts her eyes and shrugs.  
“Very well, you’ve intrigued me enough. I’ll talk to him, but I can’t promise he will have my support.”

Lana smiles, seeming quite satisfied.  
“That’s all we can ask, but I have a feeling you will agree with us in the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, so Arkous is a little different from in-game. I want him to seem like a sound tactical choice, but still a forward-thinking guy and not just "FOR THE EMPIRE". And you might think it sounds weird that Valcera doesn't know him, even if she's a Revanite. Yeah, we'll talk more about that in the future_   
>  _As for Soverus and Arho, we don't really have all that much information about either, as they only appear briefly in-game, so I decided to just create some stuff about them on my own._


	26. Shadow through stolen lands

Anjak Prime, one of the more important resource worlds within the Sith Empire, had not seen much conflict prior to the takeover by the New Empire. While the materials harvested here had a lot of uses for its former masters, the Sith never figured that it would become much of a target for the Republic anytime soon. The defenses provided against the New Empire were rather paltry, and they practically gave up right away. None can blame them for it, but not everyone is satisfied with the end result either.

Valish’jer is one of the larger cities on the surface, holding a lot of critical administrative buildings, and was immediately seized as a command center by the invaders. The surrounding area consists of a forest, not all too far outside of its borders. It is in this region that the main military command outpost was placed by the New Empire and one where a particular individual can be located at this time.

Cierah is lying on a hill, her head only barely poking out over it, with her mechanical eye patch activated. She is surrounded by darkness on this late autumn night and a cold wind blows past her, albeit one that she can endure. She’s wearing a light armor with built-in heaters that can protect her against the elements.  
While she spies from the ground, she is also connected to the transmitter that she placed on Cipher’s Menace, giving her another view from above.

The few minutes of silence is soon broken by a quiet mechanical voice at her side.  
“Report: Patrol incoming from the east, master. If my calculations are accurate, they will likely exit once more in ten minutes and disappear for another thirty. We shall have to act beforehand.”

“Agreed”, the agent tells HK-51. “We still have to wait for the others to give us the signal, though.”

She tilts her head and makes a sound similar to an owl, which is acknowledged by Menace. He switches direction and swoops down to join her on the hill. It is around this time that Cierah hears static in her ear, as her communicator comes online.  
“Sir? It’s Raina.”

She had already figured who it would be, as Cierah did assign the other agent to conduct the negotiations. Still, she’s grateful that her friend is alright.  
“Good. Report.”

“The discussions are over. We’ve spoken with the rebels and it appears they are ready to do what’s necessary. Their leader wishes to have a word with you, though.”

Of course, this was expected as well. She would’ve been disappointed if they did exactly what she said without question.  
“Alright, patch him in.”

“Yes, sir. A moment.”

It takes about half a minute until the silence is interrupted again and Cierah hears another voice. Must be the man they investigated in their search for this cell. He does speak with some kind of imperial accent, but certainly not one from Dromund Kaas.  
“Hello?”, he asks hesitantly. “This is uh, Agrel. I’m the local resistance leader, I guess. At least no one else wants to take charge.”

Cierah takes a second to ponder before she responds. A few years ago, she would have called these types of people terrorists and dismissed their worries, or possibly even been involved in their downfall. But now, she needs them more than ever, in order to make this work. She can’t deny the hypocrisy in these actions, but she also doesn’t have a choice.  
“Greetings, mister Agrel. You may call me Cierah. Do you know who we are?”

“I uh, I do, yeah. Your friend has given me the necessary information. I’m glad that the Empire is willing to help us to some extent, even if I wish you could do more.”

“I know, but sadly, most forces are too busy on other fronts and our society is in disarray. We are all they could offer for the time being.”

“Of course and we are grateful for that much.”  
She’s pretty sure that the other rebels are likely more agitated, but at least this guy is being cordial.  
“I’m…not so sure about this plan, though. It sounds very risky.”

“Naturally, but you are in charge of a rebellion now, mister Agrel. Risk should be expected.  
This is also all I have for the moment, as we had to do our best to work out a strategy in a very short time.”

She hears how Agrel takes a deep breath on the other end.  
“I understand. We will…adapt, I suppose.  
I have brought as many fighters here as we can muster, but I have to warn you now – we are not a military force. The majority of these people are civilians, with only basic training at most.”

“If they can fire a blaster correctly, that should suffice.”

“That much, I can promise. Also, I am not looking to sustain high casualty numbers, so I hope this plan of yours will be enough.”

Cierah snorts. She briefly wonders if he’s expecting miracles from her.  
“It will be, but let me be truthful with you.  
I cannot give you a victory over the New Empire, mister Agrel, as we do not have nearly enough resources for such operations. If that is what you’re searching for, then you might as well give up now.  
What I can do, however, is help you deal a heavy blow against them. If you are satisfied with hurting your enemies and making them realize that the resistance is not to be trifled with, then that is certainly something I can offer.”

Once more, the leader needs a few moments to absorb what she’s telling him, but not for long.  
“It is tempting, yes. Perhaps this strike will make more people across the planet join up with our cause.  
We will fight with you, for now.”

“Splendid.”

Shortly after this, Raina is heard once more.  
“We are obviously ready to assist as well, mister Agrel. I have myself, Vector, Scorpio and Kaliyo all prepared and fully armed.”

Some more static can be picked up over the comm, before a fourth voice joins them.  
“And we can offer more than that. Mister Agrel, my name is Doctor Lokin and I am sitting behind the controls of our state-of-the-art Phantom-class ship. Cierah has assigned me to provide air support, with Scorpio’s assistance, which I’m more than happy to do.”

The first droid of Cierah’s squad decides to speak with her rather monotone voice.  
“The latest targeting calibrations and improved power yield should suffice in order to destroy any enemies in the vicinity. As long as the doctor knows how to push the correct buttons, of course.”

“Hah! I’m not that old just yet, my friend.”

“Alright”, Agrel starts, “I am quite pleased with all of this and I’m sure we can do a lot of damage. However, it does make me wonder about you, Cierah. I assumed you, as leader of your team, would be here as well.  
What will you be doing while we hit the shield emitters and power generator?”

Sounds like he assumes she’ll avoid combat. He probably wouldn’t make such claims if he knew who she actually was, but she’s not going to relay that much.  
“As it happens, I am located in the outskirts of the city. I will be infiltrating their surface command center, to acquire certain items. After that, I will blow it up.”

“…oh. Well, that’s good too.”

“Indeed. Now, I suggest you prepare yourselves for the assault. There is much to do, and we will have to act very soon.”

Once this line shuts down, another one opens up, but from a different origin.  
“Commander”, she hears Katha Niar saying. “I am connected only to you at the moment. I wished to tell you that the patrols and defenses will be perfectly aligned for your strike in exactly 24.3 minutes. You must begin by that point, to get the most out of our attack.”

“Very well. HK and I shall be prepared.”  


* * *

  
At the exact second indicated by Katha, Cierah is lying in the grass only slightly outside the walls of the command center, examining the movements within. These defenses aren’t all too thick, but still impressive enough for having been constructed in such a short time. Perhaps this area was already around to some extent beforehand.  
Either way, the top of them is lined with several towers, holding lookouts and patrols wandering in between.

“Commander reporting in – I am ready.”

This is followed by another signal soon after.  
“Strike team reporting in”, says Raina. “We are ready, and the rebels are in position. We will begin shortly.”

“Commander, before you proceed, there’s something you should know”, says Katha. “We have calculated that it is very likely you will have about five minutes before the increased alarms to other sections of the planet appear. This is how long our slicers assume that they can suppress the signals to the fleet.”

Cierah tilts her head somewhat, looking through the scope of her sniper rifle.  
“Acknowledged. That will be more than enough.”

She waits no more than three seconds, before she takes aim and fires the first shot, hitting one of the guards straight in the head. A moment after this, another sniper fires and eliminates the second guard, followed by HK’s voice.  
“Report: Kill confirmed. Acquiring new target.”

As the two sharpshooters continues lying in the grass, they take down at least three more people each like this and pretty much cleans out the current outer defenses. There will likely be more inside.  
After getting to their feet, the duo advances towards the closest gate, which is currently locked and sealed. They could climb over it, but with Cierah’s skill, this will not be required. She slices into the keypad placed on the side with the help of a small datapad and after a few seconds, the gate slides open.

They enter the courtyard together and Menace decides to leave her side at that point, flying up into the air in order to give Cierah a view from the sky. This will obviously be useful later on as well, when she traverses the corridors and would otherwise not have line of sight against exterior threats.  
She and HK are forced to stop behind some crates a short distance away from the entrance they’re aiming for, as more troops are sent from the interior. These soldiers are unfortunately met with several more sniper shots, along with a thermal detonator.

The door they want to enter is somewhere in the back and once they approach it, Cierah holsters her rifle and picks up a pistol from her belt.  
“HK, switch.”

“Confirmation: Yes, master. Switching to blaster rifle mode”, he says, and his weapon alters its shape, shrinking somewhat.

With HK barricading himself behind a vehicle, Cierah slices the network security of the door and then pushes her back against the side. When it slides open, she tosses a smoke grenade in front of the incoming guards, shortly before HK jumps up and sprays them with a line of blaster fire. The duo works very efficiently and as soon as HK needs to recharge his weapon, Cierah changes position, opening her eye patch to see through the smoke and quickly kills the remaining soldiers that had hid behind the corners within.

Shortly after they both enter the building, they hear an explosion in the distance, which can only mean one thing. This noise heralds the start of the rebel’s attack in the city. It will deal a blow to the local New Empire forces, but most of all, it provides Cierah with a useful distraction for their real mission.  
It does appear like the people here never completely believed that anyone would be bold enough to attack the command center, though, while the city is being guarded by cruisers in the atmosphere, which is why the amount of soldiers present are limited.

During the firefights through the corridors, Katha reports in to update her on the situation.  
“Commander, the rebels have taken down one shield emitter, reached the second and will soon approach the power generator as well. They are facing fierce opposition, but the Rogue Warden provides valuable support.”

Cierah leans over her cover, reacting almost immediately when she’s visible to fire into the chest of one opponent and the head of another, before she has to duck again.  
“What’s the development in the sky? Have the ships noticed us yet?”

“Not so far. We have diverted the comm traffic in such a way that no signals can go out and the alarms are still being suppressed. This won’t last forever, though, I’m afraid.”

The agent would’ve assumed that any ship’s sensors could pick up traces of the explosions, but her colleagues reassured her that the city shields will block it. Well, until they go down, that is.  
“We are advancing at a steady pace and should soon reach the correct databases. Stand by.”

“If you wish, we could launch an attack on the closest ship. Ours is equipped for combat.”

“Don’t”, Cierah warns her. “That would be far too risky. Endangering yourselves will also endanger the mission.”

Katha almost sounds a bit relieved when she responds.  
“Yes, Commander.”

Another minute or so and all opposition in their path has been eliminated, but there is definitely more coming. After Cierah gets her tools out to deal with the final slicing, she gestures with her other hand towards a second entrance.  
“Keep your eyes on that exit, HK. Reinforcements will be coming from that direction, I expect.”

“Recognition: Splendid, master. They will rush right into my line of fire.”

Cierah lets him have his fun, while she reports in.  
“I’m ready to slice the database’s security.”

“Acknowledged”, Katha tells her. “Will you require remote assistance? I can assign one of our slicers to-“

“No, that will not be necessary. I am more than capable of handling this myself.”

“Very well, we shall stand by to receive any files you acquire.  
The rebels are about to destroy the second shield emitter and the power generator is soon being overrun as well.”

Cierah is pleased, knowing that they’re short on time but that this should not take long at all. Getting out will of course not be all too easy, but they will have to adapt. The rebels will be fleeing into the sewers, while she, Menace and HK have to disappear into the forests.  
Unfortunately, she does not even manage to start the slicing process, before she hears a thundering noise from the opening that she and HK used to get in here. She shuts her eye.

“…blast it.”

“Is something wrong, Commander?”

“I believe we miscalculated.”

The agent attempts to whirl around and raise her gun at the same time, but her opponent is ready for this act. From the entrance, a red-haired and fair-skinned human frowns at the agent, standing there in medium-sized black and white armor and holds a red lightsaber in one hand. This woman lifts her free hand and utilizing the Force, she flings Cierah across the room. The Cipher slams into the opposite wall and drops her weapon in the fall.

The impact made her head bump into the hard metal as well and when she lands on the ground, her head is spinning, the pain obscuring her senses. She grits her teeth and tries to get up on her knees, followed by hearing Katha’s voice in her ear.  
“Commander? Commander, what’s the situation?”

Cierah opens her mouth, but her throat has turned so dry that she has to cough first.  
“…Sith.”

The answer is somewhat delayed after this.  
“…shit.”

While trying her best to struggle and get up, it appears her opponent has a few words to speak as well.  
“Pitiful”, the woman says in a harsh tone. “You thought you could just come in here and take whatever you wish, little thief? Not on my watch.  
I am Darth Birakkel and I will be your end, worm.”

Before she has a chance to approach Cierah’s location, HK has shifted around and despite not having all too much cover, he fires at the Sith, forcing her to block his shots and get into a position where she can redirect his bolts back at him. Luckily, HK is not so slow as to be hit by such maneuvers and easily rolls away. She could go after him, but is much more adamant about finishing off the agent, perhaps due to what she’s able to do with their terminals.

The Sith leaps at her, but Cierah jumps at the same time, just barely avoiding the lightsaber’s slash. As she cannot get ahold of her rifle from here, the agent picks up her pistol and fires at her opponent from the floor. The Sith barely blocks the shots and then backs away, as this range is not enough for her to return the bolts from. Thankfully, this is what Cierah wants as well and tries her best to gain some distance.

Cierah soon gets busy glancing between the Sith and the path ahead of her, trying to work on a location to hide behind. The shots are mostly meant as distractions and therefore most of them miss quite wildly, which gives the Sith enough room to use another ability. She telekinetically grabs the pistol and yanks it out of the agent’s hands, leaving her without a ranged weapon. Not exactly what Cierah would’ve wanted, but there’s little she can do about it.

It seems pretty clear that Birakkel is about to charge at her again, but HK comes to Cierah’s defense once more, unleashing his rifle to push the Sith into retreating to another side of the room.  
Knowing that she must remove every defiant aspect, Birakkel waits until the right moment when HK’s gun has to recharge and at that point, uses all the strength she can summon in order to pull the weapon out of his hands.

During this process, she had completely lost focus on Cierah, which the agent uses to her advantage. She has prepared a stun grenade, and just as the rifle flies away, it lands right in front of the Sith, exploding and temporarily blinding her.  
Cierah sees that as her perfect opportunity and as the Sith is closer than her pistol, she draws a vibro dagger from her belt, hoping to stab her opponent before this can get worse.

If there’s something Cierah hates to do, it’s underestimate her opponents, which she apparently does now. The Sith begins relying on her other senses, as well as the aid of the Force, while her sight is obscured. Somehow, she detects where the dagger is coming from and Cierah can only widen her eye as the lightsaber appears right where her weapon was supposed to pierce, reflecting it. This move is followed up by Birakkel lifting her closed fist, imbuing with the Force and swinging it, punching Cierah straight in the face with her gauntlet. The agent can practically feel how her nose breaks and the hit is so heavy that she stumbles into the nearest wall.

With blood running down her face and her vision going blurry, Cierah cannot do much in order to defend herself. She can only barely see with her mechanical eye how the Sith advances on her again, this time trying to make sure that the agent dies. It feels almost like a miracle when this doesn’t happen.  
Instead, HK has jumped out from this hiding spot as well and with a vibro sword in his hands, blocks the lightsaber at the last second, protecting his master from death.

The battle takes another turn as the droid swings his melee weapon around, convincing the Sith to retreat through violence and focusing entirely on him once more. This gives the agent some breathing room to recover.  
Cierah feels as if her head has literally exploded and she can’t think clearly. How the hell is she supposed to slice into the databases after this? Time is running out.

The duel between HK and Birakkel should move in the direction of an obvious conclusion, as no droid should be able to match a Sith, and it is true that she manages to take the upper hand eventually. Fortunately, HK is quite clever, and he has learned a lot about guile from his master. He may seemingly be losing, but there’s another plan working through his processors.  
He waits for the right move, opening an obvious gap in his defenses and notes how Birakkel goes straight for it. She deflects his weapon and disarms him with a strong swing.

At this point, HK has already advanced to the next stage and while she has lowered her own guard for a brief moment, he raises his right arm and opens a hatch over his wrist, extracting an internal vibro blade. With a fierce thrust, he shoves it right into her side, piercing both her armor and her body.  
Birakkel widens her eyes in surprise and staggers as the weapon digs into her, feeling the pain coursing through her. She had obviously not expected such a flanking maneuver.

“Smug observation: It appears Sith are strong, but not particularly tactical. Quite a substantial flaw, I would imagine”, he says while twisting the blade.

Birakkel grits her teeth and feels the rage surging through her.  
“Arrogant droid! You…think you can destroy me?!”

She manages to summon enough strength to swing her lightsaber over his other arm, carving quite a gap into it, which forces him to pull back due to the damage. He doesn’t want to lose it, obviously, and it appears she still has adequate energy to continue fighting.  
That is when Cierah sees her chance, as the Sith is now far too busy with HK to notice her surroundings. Running in behind Birakkel, Cierah operates on pure adrenaline and after grabbing one shoulder, she swiftly stabs her own dagger as deeply into her opponent’s throat as she can get.

“Traitors like you deserve a much worse fate, but I’m too tired to extend this fight. I hope you burn in the void”, Cierah speaks straight into her foe’s ear with a rather strained voice.

Birakkel gasps and chokes, her strength draining together with her life energy. Cierah watches as the Sith stumbles away, trips over a few boxes and drops to the ground, losing her lightsaber in the same move. Cierah doesn’t have time to extract her weapon and leaves it.  
After turning around, she walks on unsteady feet over to her companion, her own head still hurting more than it has done in quite a while.

“You alright, HK?”

It appears the droid is at least in better shape than she is, as he can easily stand without wobbling.  
“Reassurance: Don’t worry, master, I only took moderate amount of damage on the left arm section. It can be repaired at a later time, but I am still functional.”

“Good. Try to keep watch, while I-“

Katha’s alarmed voice can be heard over the comms, interrupting her.  
“Commander, can you hear me?! The alarms are going up, you have to act quickly!”

Well, shit. She’ll have to rush this, if she is to have any chance of succeeding now.  
“Yes, yes, I’m doing it. Just give me a moment.”

“I don’t wish to push you, but you need to hurry!”

With her head aching as if it was just bombarded, she accesses the nearest terminal and gestures with her free hand at her companion.  
“HK, plant the explosive charges and prepare to leave.”

“Affirmation: Yes, master. They will be placed before you are ready to exit.”

While he departs, she works quickly and attempts to extract as much information as possible. At the same time, she tries to send as many files as she can over her wireless link to Katha’s ship, hoping that they will get enough of it, in case she never makes it off-planet.  
Cierah does have a little bit of time to view some of what she acquires and there is a particularly interesting part towards the end.

Apparently, the New Empire is preparing an assault on Ziost. Whenever that happens, she hopes she will be around to see it be stopped.

It takes no more than a minute for her to grab all the intel she can get and together with HK, she flees the facility.  
As they both run away from the command center, they see how the cruiser in the sky is descending towards the city. She sincerely hopes that her own team has escaped their positions by now. Losing them here would be quite unfortunate.

While she, Menace and HK disappear into the woods, the buildings behind them explode, sending quite a nice show for the cruiser’s sensors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If anyone has ever dreamed of seeing Cierah get knocked around, I guess you got your wish. I thought it was time to beat her up a bit, as her missions can't go smoothly all the time._   
>  _I also wanted to show what HK can do. Without him there, Cierah might not have survived._


	27. Tempered Wrath

It’s been a while since Zal’riva had the opportunity to visit Vaiken Spacedock and the Expeditionary Fleet. Most of the time, she travels between various frontlines for special operations and imperial core worlds, while this particular station tends to be a central meeting platform for a lot of military personnel, but one that she doesn’t really have time to indulge. Or at least she didn’t used to, but the last few months have altered her position.

Today, she finds herself within one meeting hall inside the spacedock, accompanied by several top military officers. She’s surrounded by a few Admirals, Generals and a Moff – all of them humans - who will all be engaged in plans that might be able to finally prevent the New Empire’s continued charge.  
Zal doesn’t have an official rank in the military, but as the Emperor’s Wrath and for what she has done in the Empire’s service, she receives either full respect or fear from each of these officers. Zal isn’t just the only alien in the room, but also the tallest and by far the most muscular.

She knows it’s not just about her, though. Despite his position, Marr has had a slightly difficult time seizing control over all imperial divisions. A lot of them are used to obeying the Sphere of Military Offense and all that implies, not the one in charge of Defense.  
This is why, even if he would prefer to deny it, he needs Zal. Few dares to oppose her presence and she has helped to coordinate them, preventing disorder among those who would stray too far from the unified line. Some might still prefer making power plays, but the Empire has to stick together, which she constantly reminds them. She will carve this message into their bodies, if need be.

As they stand and discuss the topics at hand, the Moff clears his throat to get their attention. He’s a pale-skinned man with a balding head and greying black hair, dressed in a white uniform.  
“My lord, If I may suggest something.”

Zal turns towards him and inclines her head.  
“Go ahead.”

“I know what mindset our current strategy is attempting to promote, but I think it is unwise. Retreating now will only make the Republic bolder and convince them to advance on our positions. It’s better to keep pushing, make them feel some heat.”

This again. She doesn’t get why he and so many others never give up. Are they that doom-driven or just stupid?  
“I have told you and your colleagues before, that this would be utterly foolish. If we keep pushing, we will expose ourselves on other fronts and eventually suffer far too many losses. And what will we do when we have virtually nothing left in some regions of space?”

He snorts in an unimpressed manner.  
“The Republic is weak, my lord. They would never be able to-“

“I know you like to view every aspect of imperial society as superior to our enemies, but the galaxy does not operate on your wishes, Moff”, she tells him in a harsher tone. “The Republic is far stronger than you give them credit for and we should not underestimate their capabilities.  
If you happen to do that in the field at any point, I will hold you personally responsible for any and all losses. And I will find you.”

That makes him shrink somewhat and they can all see how he swallows.  
“…y-yes, my lord. I will...focus on improving our strategy instead.”

“Good choice.”

Another person in the room raises her voice then, one of the few women, dressed in a black uniform. She has light brown skin, grey eyes and short black-grey hair, mostly hidden by her cap. She is aged like several of the others and her build is heavier, but not towards the muscular.  
This is recently promoted Vice Admiral Dreya Draconius of the 16th Kaas Fleet. Zal doesn’t know her very well, but she has been secretly informed that this is one of Cierah’s mothers.

“I agree with Lord Wrath”, she says calmly. “We should maintain and reinforce our current defensive positions.”

“Of course one from Defense would say that”, mutters one of the Generals.

Dreya frowns towards him.  
“I know that some of you are eager to attack like hungry vine cats, but you have blinded yourselves to the reality of the Republic’s situation. They are just as reluctant to advance as we are.  
We should seize this opportunity to aid sectors that have been forgotten.”

Zal is glad that she is one of those who are more agreeable. Perhaps Cierah has spoken to her mother about it and wanted to grant Zal an ally in the military.  
“What would you suggest, Admiral?”

“Well, Darth Marr mentioned to me recently that he would prefer we transfer ships towards some of the sectors among the colony worlds. The systems of Herral, Minasoroth, Anjak and Viizh Lint have all lost ground or is on the verge of doing so. I tend to agree with his assessment. The New Empire is not as powerful there as it pretends to be.”

Of course his name would be raised here as well. It makes Zal snort.  
“Marr wants a lot of things.”

Dreya looks at her curiously and arches her brow inquisitively.  
“Are you implying that we ignore his advice, my lord?”

It would certainly be funny to see them target completely different colony systems, just to spite him, but when she looks at the galactic map, she notices that those systems could indeed be useful.  
“Not at all. Give the dear Councilor what he asks for. Wouldn’t want Malgus to devour every world, before we destroy him.”

Hints of a small smirk appears on Dreya’s lips.  
“Naturally. And I assume you would wish to be there at the scene of the false Emperor’s elimination.”

“More than anything.”

“Then I hope to be able to reserve a front row seat.”

Soon enough, they hear how someone else clears her throat, as a young twi’lek officer stands in the entrance of the room. She looks hesitant, probably not wanting to disturb so many important people.  
“Uh, Lord Wrath? There is a chiss here in the station who wants to speak with you.”

Zal turns around and watches her curiously. Who could that be? If it was Lakorev, he would’ve been mentioned by name.  
“Hmm. From the Ascendancy?”

“No, my lord, she claims to be independent. She said you would know what that means.”

She, eh? Well, with that small description, it can only be one person. But what would she be doing here, on the central imperial military space station?  
Somewhat reluctantly, Zal turns to face the gathered officers.  
“Excuse me, I have to deal with this.”

“Of course, my lord”, Dreya tells her. “Don’t worry, I will make sure the others follow the suggestions you have already provided.”

Most of the other officers seem very dissatisfied with that conclusion, but they don’t say anything. Not until Zal has left, anyhow.  
The tension inside of Zal keeps growing during her stride through the station and does not get any better when she arrives at the right hangar and spots a very familiar ship – the Shielded Path. It has become a recognizable sight to her by now.

Outside of the ship, just by the edge of the exit hatch, stands a familiar woman with her hands placed at her hips, waiting for Zal to reach her.  
“Ktila, what are you doing here?”, the twi’lek asks when she’s in close proximity.

For whatever reason, Ktila is looking fairly amused. Perhaps she senses the swirling emotions of uncertainty. Their Force bond is too strong to hide such aspects, after all.  
“Just thought I’d stop by for a visit to my favorite Sith. Is there something wrong with that?”

Zal takes a deep breath and glances around her. There’s no one immediately next to them, but probably wise speak in a quiet tone anyhow.  
“…technically not, I guess.”

“And yet you do look kinda unsure anyway.”

“Maybe.”

As this entertains her, Ktila smirks and then comes closer. _Much_ closer.  
She lowers her voice and puts a hand on Zal’s chest.  
“You smell of sweat and confidence.”

“Smell or feel?”

“Kiss me and I’ll find out.”

Zal hesitates and decides to survey their position again. They are still quite out in the open and this is a pretty big hangar. There are pilots, dock workers, droids, soldiers and more all around the area. Not all too many people are watching them specifically, but that doesn’t make her feel any better. If they start being intimate, others will notice.  
She coughs in slight embarrassment.  
“Perhaps we…shouldn’t do this in public?”

The chiss’ smirk grows even wider.  
“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Ktila doesn’t stop, shutting the distance even further and their bodies are now pushing against each other.  
“Tell me.”

Zal sighs and rolls her eyes. Ktila isn’t usually one to be overly mischievous, but they do enjoy teasing each other from time to time. This is probably the best opportunity that the Jedi has had in a while.  
“Because I am the Emperor’s Wrath.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I can’t…you know, be affectionate in front of these people. It would be weird.”

None of what she says appears to affect Ktila’s actions in the way that she would prefer. Instead, Ktila grabs the front of Zal’s coat.  
“Nonsense. It will be fine.  
Here, let me help, by soothing our dear Wrath.”

“Ktila, wai-“

Before she has a chance to do anything that will prevent this action, Ktila seizes the coat in a sturdy grip and pulls Zal down. She tilts her head and gets into a good angle, so that their lips can be locked together in a firm kiss.  
It is painfully pleasant to have Ktila like this, a woman that somehow always manages to capture all of her attention, no matter what situation. After all, did she not just leave an important meeting simply to go see her girlfriend?  
Zal has always been so sure of herself, that she is in control of her emotions, and this is the true in most circumstances. In Ktila’s company, though, that just tends to…shatter.

As their lips part slowly and they remain in close vicinity of each other, Ktila whispers suggestively.  
“You’re pretty tasty when you’re embarrassed.”

“…and you are trouble sometimes.”

She notes, just like she expected, how some people have begun watching them. Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s not like they can tell her who she can or can’t be with.  
“I know. Come into my ship, and I’m sure we can create even more.”

“Tsk. Trying to kidnap the Wrath, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. How can it be theft, if she belongs to me?”

While the majority of people in here don’t dare to disturb them for various reasons, there appears to be one person who does, and he approaches them as soon as he sees the interaction.  
“Master, I wasn’t aware that you were so closely associated with one from my people.”

Zal actually flinches when she hears his voice and she quickly turns around.  
“Lakorev. Uh, how long have you been standing there?”

The young man is positioned only a few meters away, with his arms folded over his chest. There is, as always, a small and smug smile on his lips.  
“Long enough to see you devour her.”

Zal exhales through her nose. Of course he has.  
“…it wasn’t that bad.”

As this occurs, Ktila quickly switches from playfulness to curiosity.  
“I didn’t know you had more chiss around you, Zal. And he called you ‘master’?”

“Yes, he did.” She shakes her head, but it’s now inevitable. This can no longer be delayed.  
“I suppose I have to do this then. Let me introduce my troublesome new apprentice – Lakorev.”

He smiles more pleasantly while he bows gracefully.  
“I only try to give her headaches a limited amount of times per day.”

Shortly after, she gestures at the woman on her side.  
“Apprentice, this is…my girlfriend, Ktila.”

When he stands up again, his expression is somewhat more solemn.  
“Ktila? As in, the Hero of Tython?”

Ktila blinks out of surprise.  
“You know about me?”

“Of course. You are rather famous by now.”

He decides to shut the distance between them and extends his hand. Today, he’s not wearing his gloves, so their fingers actually connect. She accepts the offer and views him with interest.  
“I didn’t know that there were chiss who could be accepted as Sith. Haven’t met any, I think.”

“There are not a lot of us, that’s true.  
That said, I was able to prove myself to the Order and it seems I made quite an impression. Otherwise, I don’t believe I would have been assigned to such a distinguished Sith.”

Zal snorts and crosses her arms.  
“Well, let’s not forget that it was not my initial decision. Vowrawn was the one who found you.”

“True, but gaining the attention of a Dark Councilor can also be rather impressive, I would say.”

“I guess.”

It appears Ktila isn’t particularly interested in the Sith Order for now and instead switches topic somewhat.  
“So, are you from the Ascendancy?”

Lakorev positions himself with his hands behind his back and inclines his head in recognition.  
“It is where I was born, yes, but I have not visited all too many times since I was sent to the Empire many years ago.”

“You don’t meet…’our people’ often, then?”

“Not really, no. Though, I willingly admit that it is nice to see a successful chiss in the galaxy, especially one with such a flavorsome reputation. I can’t say I fully admire what you did, as we are technically enemies, but what you have accomplished is sure to have made everyone at home rather proud.”

Ktila starts to view him with some skepticism, particularly at the last section.  
“Maybe, but that’s not really something that matters to me. I was born on Corellia.”

“A minor detail. The Ascendancy would still view you as one of its own.”

“Well, you should probably know that I’m not a great fan of it, no more than I like the Empire.”

This brings a small smile to his lips.  
“I did figure it was strange to hear of a chiss Jedi, yes. Personally, I have certain issues with it too, as I was forcefully relocated at a young age, but you must have other problems then?”

At first, Ktila looks somewhat reluctant, as if she doesn’t really wish to get into this topic. But then again, how often does she get the chance to speak and explain herself to another chiss?  
She sighs and divert her eyes to the side.  
“My parents were exiled by the Ascendancy and later assassinated. If you’re looking for a friend, I’m probably not the right person.”

“Assassinated by the Ascendancy? Unlikely.”

Is he calling her a liar? He’s not improving their relationship in that case. Either way, she sharply turns back to him.  
“How so?”

“Our society may not be perfect, but killing is highly frowned upon against our own people. That is the very reason why exile is utilized instead. Often, the government continues to send resources to the exiles, in order for them to be able to survive without being allowed to influence the wider sections of society. Few are ever abandoned.”

Technically, Ktila doesn’t know if that happened to her parents. She was too young to remember and has found no proof either way. The Ascendancy hasn't helped her, though.  
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, as my parents were still sent away or had to flee. If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been killed, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t forgive that easily.”

“Fair enough. However, I must still point out that your philosophy is rather peculiar. You have a Sith girlfriend, despite disliking the Empire.”

He managed to hit a weak point right there, which is why she hesitates, fidgeting with her fingers for a moment.  
“That’s-…Zal is special.”

“Hoping to ‘convert her to the light’ some day?”

“I’m not currently in the Jedi Order, so no, I have no such plans.  
I guess for the most part, Zal is special because her own ideals differ from many Sith. I’m hoping that she can turn the Empire onto a new path at some point.”

Zal smiles as she gazes at her girlfriend.  
“And it doesn’t hurt having someone who knows more about what this path entails.”

Ktila mirrors her expression.  
“Exactly. Besides, I don’t think Jedi and Sith should be enemies. We may have different ways, but I believe we can learn from each other.”

Lakorev raises his hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully.  
“An intriguing approach, for sure.  
Naturally, I don’t wish to stand in your way, but if you are ever interested in talking more about this, I am always open to discussion.”

The last thing Ktila had expected to be offered here is the chance to speak to one of her species. She doesn’t even remember when she last met another chiss anywhere. Probably on the battlefield, as very few of them roam through Republic space.  
Back on Corellia, it could be tough being the only chiss when others distrusted her people, but this ended with her invitation to the Green Jedi, as they were far more welcoming.

“Hmm. Not sure how I feel about that, but If you’re with Zal, I suppose we’ll meet again someday.”

“I’ll look forward to that opportunity.”  
He bows his head again.  
“For now, I shall leave you be. It was pleasant to talk to you, miss Ktila.”

After he departs, Ktila follows him with her eyes for a few moments and then turns back to Zal.  
“He is…kinda strange.”

Zal’s smile still lingers, in a somewhat softer manner.  
“For a chiss, you mean?”

“Yeah. He was smug to begin with, more obviously so than I expected. I didn’t know that kind of attitude was acceptable behavior in the Ascendancy. Then again, I haven’t really been there.”

“Lakorev is like that. Don’t underestimate him, though – he’s smarter than you think.”

“I don’t doubt it.”  
She exhales through her nose, lowering her eyes to the ground.  
“I really like Jaesa, though. It’s a bit unfortunate that he’s so different from her."

“Perhaps, but it was inevitable that my next apprentice would be. They can’t all act the same way she does or share her principles.  
Besides, he’s still a good man and very polite.”

Ktila considers it, having to admit that it did seem that way. Still, she shrugs anyhow.  
“It’s not the same.”

“Yes, I know. But it’s not like Jaesa is gone, right? She has her own place in the Empire now and she is always available for you to chat with as well.”

This is something Ktila had already heard of, but decides to address anyhow. She turns to Zal with a serious expression.  
“I hope you’re still looking out for her.”

“Obviously.” She places a hand on Ktila’s lower back, caressing that spot tenderly. “At any rate, while I may not have expected you to arrive, I can certainly arrange some type of private place for us to stay in.”

Ktila’s smile returns and she leans closer.  
“Sure, as long as you don’t mind showing me off to the whole ship.”

“…are you really going to make a big deal out of this?”

“Yes, definitely. We’re going to hold hands and everything.”

Zal sighs and shuts her eyes.  
“You have been waiting for this opportunity a long time, haven’t you?”

Ktila pushes herself up on her toes and puts a kiss on Zal’s cheek.  
“Longer than you think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Ktila doesn't wanna hide anymore. It's not all too critical, anyway. Ktila isn't in the Jedi Order, Zal is the Emperor's Wrath and she's pals with a lot of powerful people._


	28. Heart and tongue

Working overtime tends to be an unfortunate standard for a lot of imperials, even more so during war. A lot is expected of them, especially when the pressure is high, and for some it is difficult to let go of the pace deriving from such circumstances. Lana Beniko happens to be one of them.  
Even when she’s not specifically focusing on tasks related to her direct position, there is always something else that keeps her occupied. She tries to reduce the stress at home, but it’s not easy. It’s not like her girlfriend is all that different either.

It’s currently rather late and she is sitting in the main office on the upper level of their apartment. Like many other days, this one has been long and grueling. The latest developments in the war have kept them rather busy, but not too much to completely disregard other elements of their lives.  
For both of them, getting home and being together in solitude has become one of the most rejuvenating experiences they can get on Dromund Kaas as of late. It’s why they often strive to obtain it.

Despite probably needing some rest, there was something that required Lana’s attention when she got home, and she hasn’t been able to tear herself away. Now, she has almost wasted the entire evening, but it’s not quite over.  
Lana glances to the side and checks the time, groans and runs a hand over her eyes, knowing she should stop reading the information on this terminal. She just needs a little bit more, though…

That’s when she hears some noise from the entrance.  
“Coming to bed?”

Lana’s eyes turn upwards and she can see Valcera standing in the opening, leaning against the doorframe, in nothing but a set of night clothes. While Lana is sitting in a black polo neck shirt and some dark green pants, Val wears nothing but lilac underwear, with a bathrobe wrapped around her in the same color. She has it open in the middle, to show off what she has underneath, with a suggestive look in her eyes. One of her hands is placed at her hip, while the other roams around her lips, slowly running over them.

The sight is definitely enough to attract Lana’s attention, who views her eagerly and a small smile forms on the advisor’s lips. She leans forward to rest her arms on the desk.  
“Waiting for me?”

“Does that even need to be a question?”

“If I knew you were, I might not have lingered here for so long.”

Val shakes her head and pushes herself away from the entrance, slowly approaching Lana’s location. Every step is made rather deliberately, swaying her hips somewhat.  
“It’s not all too late just yet, but I did wonder what you were doing.”

“I had to check some things and figured I had time. Didn’t know it would take a couple of hours.”

Eventually, Val ends up behind Lana and wraps arms around the seated advisor’s shoulders. She bends down and tilts her head to plant a kiss on Lana’s cheek.  
“We’ve both been working for so long today. It’s time to relax.”

Lana shuts her eyes and enjoys the sensation of Val’s hands over her body. She lifts her own in order to run it through the Councilor’s hair. Currently, the long black strands are hanging loose and free.  
“You may have a point. I suppose I’ve robbed you of a lot of my time, which rightfully belongs to you.”

The mirialan’s lips continues further down, towards Lana’s neck, kissing this area tenderly.  
“You’re damn right it does”, she whispers. It makes Lana giggle.

As the chair isn’t static, Lana spins it around and pulls Val closer. The Councilor takes this opportunity to slip down into her girlfriend’s lap, straddling her and their lips quickly search for one another, finding their equivalent and embraces it eagerly. While Val’s hands roam through the blonde hair, Lana caresses the Councilor’s back, hips and thighs, squeezing certain softer sections almost instinctively. Being around each other like this can quickly ignite the passions. It is not just physical, but mental, as the Force surrounds them, aiding them to enjoy this interaction on multiple levels.

They don’t move just yet, but as Val is curious, she stops the kiss momentarily and gazes into the yellow eyes of her companion. The dim light in the room is reflected in them rather nicely.  
“So, mind telling me what was so important that it distracted you from me? Was your work too overwhelming or was it Arkous again?”

“Heh. No, neither of them. The reason for my absence during these last few hours has been you.”

Val blinks confusedly at first, not quite having expected that response, shortly before arching her brow inquisitively.  
“Me? Fairly certain you haven’t been downstairs.”

Lana chuckles, before she somewhat reluctantly gestures at the terminal.  
“I had hoped to make it a surprise today, when I failed last time, but perhaps we might as well discuss it.  
My contacts located more information about House Nih’etat and sent me a whole new batch of it recently. This time, it is not related as much to your family’s history, though, but a more current era.”

This is obviously interesting to Val, who quickly turns to watch the screen.  
“Did you now? Curious. I have heard some things, of course, and I could have enquired about them myself, but I haven’t had the time.”

There is likely more to it than a simple lack of spare time, but Lana doesn’t need to confront her.  
“I know. That’s exactly why I hoped to help. Would you like to see?”

With an eager smile, Val changes her position, getting seated crosswise over Lana’s legs instead, but with an arm still wrapped around the advisor’s back. She leans her head down towards her girlfriend’s shoulder.  
“Of course I do. What did they manage to dig up?”

While trying to embrace Val with one arm, Lana uses the other to control the devices connected to the terminal, switching what is being shown on the screen.  
“A lot of things. They acquired a bunch of identities, pictures, a few holovids, locations, knowledge about positions and homes, even some news regarding their partners. Oh, and also, the significance of your name.”

“My name?”

“Yes. Uh, your family name, that is, not your first one. Nih’etat has a very old definition. If you don’t mind viewing some more history, I can access the file.”

“Of course I don’t. Show me.”

Lana pulls up the correct folder related to Nih’etat and various linguistical records.  
“According to files on Mirial, Nih’etat does not exist as a complete word in any of the modern versions of the various languages on your homeworld. It belongs to an ancient dialect, which slowly went out of use thousands of years ago.  
Searching through historical records, my contacts managed to find a definition, though. Apparently, it can be loosely translated into Basic as ‘the tongue tempered with heart’.”

Val sees that sentence on the screen and becomes somewhat distant for a few moments, considering the meaning of such words.  
“That sounds quite beautiful somehow.”

Lana smiles.  
“I agree, but it is apparently more than just an aesthetic choice. It also helps to define their philosophy.  
‘The tongue’, in this case, describes the acts of persuasion and diplomacy, and ‘the heart’ indicates compassion and kindness. According to your family’s principles, this shows how diplomacy is a crucial aspect of their existence, but it must always be conducted with understanding and be beneficial for all parties involved. This obviously conveys how long the Nih’etat have operated as diplomats, but also how important such work is to them now. It is why they have refused to give the name up even after all these millennia.”

“Hmm. I read through a lot of the files about my family’s history that you gave me last time. It does seem that they uphold the definition of that name.”

“For the most part, yes. Not perfectly, of course, as no one can do the right thing all the time and I don’t believe all of them wish to do so either, but it is still an ideology that they respect overall and try to live up to.”  
After she is done talking for now, she glances at Val, seeing how the Councilor’s current expression is difficult to read and her emotions remain elusive.  
“What do you think?”

“Well, their views on society and life are fascinating. I may not always share it, but the whole idea is very…poetic.  
I do wonder if I have managed to follow this mindset, though.”

As she furrows her brow, there seems to be a small bit of disappointment surging through her mind, at least from what Lana can sense. The advisor lifts her hand and runs her fingers slowly through the black hair.  
“I think you have.”

Val turns her blue eyes to view those of her beloved.  
“Are you sure? I’m a Sith. I don’t know if I can ever be like that.”

Lana offers her a soft smile.  
“Okay, not in the classic fashion of Republic politics, perhaps, but you can’t honestly say that you’re like other Sith, can you? I believe many would consider you both kind and diplomatic, not to mention persuasive. I certainly do.  
Just look at how far you have gotten into the Empire. There are few that can compare your methods to their own.”

“Hmm, perhaps. My rise was still rather violent, though.”

“Maybe, but your development since has been completely different. You focus on equality, dialogue and diversity. Your power plays are minor at best, you involve yourself in methods for change in your Sphere and you try your utmost to fight the branches that pushes the Empire towards war. It’s not perfect and you don’t always succeed, but no one can say you don’t try.”

Val raises her hands in defeat.  
“Alright, alright, you win. I still believe the Empire has far to go before it can reach the exact change that I truly want, but I guess I haven’t completely failed to be the type of person my family adheres to.”

“I’m glad we agree.  
As for the identities of the people in your House, I will transfer all of it to you as well, whenever you wish, so that you can look through them. However, if you don’t mind, I would like to offer a demonstration of the results, to show you a few interesting ones right now.”

“Oh, sure. I’m…not certain I can predict my reaction, but I can’t deny that I’d like the chance to see who they are.”

Hearing the approval, Lana switches to another folder with a lot of names and she chooses to click on a specific one.  
A profile pops up on the screen, displaying an aged man. His skin color is more yellow-green than Val’s moss green, he has brown eyes, and both his hair as well as his thin beard is grey. In this picture, he wears a fine set of black, blue and white robes, but they seem somewhat more ceremonial than one might expect from a casual attire. It does fit the formal theme, though.

“Let’s start with someone I found of interest, as he’s one of the main intellectuals from your House.  
This is Head Principle and Senior Professor Laevi Ined Nih’etat. He is in charge of the Surooka University.”

Recognition enters Val’s eyes.  
“I know that name. Isn’t that one of those schools founded by my House?”

Lana looks pleased that she remembered. Val must have imprinted a lot of that in her memory by now. It makes Lana glad that she could help.  
“Indeed, it is. Surooka is one of the oldest and most prestigious educational facilities on Mirial and the name itself was taken from the founder.”

“From what I can remember of the official information, it should have stood there for millennia, yes? Though, according to your contacts, it has not always been led by people from my family.”

“The position of Head Principle is not inherited, no, but earned. However, Laevi is apparently a very respectable and intelligent man, having proven his skills to his peers enough that he was given this position.”

Val nods slowly, browsing the various photos of him that follows. He looks rather serious in most of them and there isn’t really any that display him in a less formal setting.  
“Do you know how he’s related to me?”

“Yes. There are a few generational steps between you and him, so he isn’t close family, but that was sort of my point as well. I wanted to display just how big the House is, that it is much more than one small family.”

“I like that. Does he teach anything?”

“Not anymore. He has degrees in and used to give lectures about mathematics, holographic design and hyperspace theory. Since that time, he has moved to handle more administration with his new tasks, though.”

Val blinks and then raises her brow skeptically, turning to view Lana.  
“…did you deliberately pick someone who’s, like, the opposite of me?”

That makes Lana laugh briefly and she shakes her head.  
“Not really, but I suppose that’s a good point. I simply figured he would be a good example of what your family is capable of.”

Val shrugs and then resumes her position of leaning against Lana.  
“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that. He does sound rather impressive, even if I’m not sure he and I would have much to discuss in terms of academics. Is there more?”

“Of course.”  
Lana goes back to the list and then clicks another name. This time, they see a woman, who’s obviously older than both of them. Her skin is of a similar color as Val’s, her eyes are grey, and her long hair is tied into a low ponytail. Except for the wrinkles, her age can also be displayed through the greying of her black hair.  
“This is an example of someone in your family who comes closer to the ideals of diplomacy, as she is a politician. She is involved with the top of the political sphere on Mirial and according to my contacts, she is often seen as the unofficial ‘head’ of the House.”

Val studies the woman’s expression, stance and aura, a combination that almost oozes with authority.  
“Ameryh Nih’etat?”

“Correct. She is your aunt, older sister to your father.”

Val widens her eyes, swiftly turning them to Lana.  
“What? Are you sure?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

The Councilor hesitates and views the images again. If she looks closer, she notices some resemblance to herself. Ameryh must be somewhere in her mid to late 50s.  
“I…I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t even considered the idea of someone this closely related to me still being alive.”

A contemplative expression forms on Lana’s face and she raises her hand to caress Val’s cheek.  
“What happened to you and your parents was…tragic, but it did not affect your entire family. Many of them are still safe and sound back on Mirial or other Republic worlds.”

Val continues to view Ameryh while she addresses Lana.  
“What do you know about her? She looks quite…serious.”

“She does, and she is. Some say that she is rather strict and very determined, to the point where she may not completely uphold the ideal of ‘the heart’ of Nih’etat, but she is still a great diplomat and leader. She has earned a lot of respect and often wants to make sure that the interests of the mirialan species is preserved in the Republic.”

That is at least something that Val can admire, something that they have in common perhaps.  
“I…I wonder why she wouldn’t have come looking for me.”

“Actually, she did.”  
Val turns to watch her girlfriend, as their gazes meet.  
“From what my contacts have found, your family sent official requests and search parties regarding all three of you, hoping to get you back. The Empire…well, obviously no one here cared to answer, and the Republic didn’t manage to provide them with enough assistance.  
Right now, she and many others in your House assume you and your parents are dead. There are even graves placed in your home city for all three of you.”

Val raises a hand to her mouth, her expression shifting between distress and shock.  
“…graves?”

Lana pulls her closer, gently rubbing a hand over her back.  
“It…has been some 20-25 years now, after all, without a word. After what happened to your ship back then…”

The Councilor has to close her eyes and lift a hand to her forehead, doing her best to control her emotions. This is an overwhelming situation that could not have been predicted, in spite of the circumstances.  
Eventually, she emits a sigh.  
“I suppose that…I’m not all too surprised. My real name isn’t common knowledge in the galaxy and I doubt they hear much about the Dark Council anyhow. I just wish…”

She doesn’t find the right words, her own hesitation catching up with her. Traces of sorrow flows through Lana’s eyes as well.  
“Are you alright?”, she whispers.

It takes a second or two, but Val eventually shrugs.  
“I don’t know. I will have to think about this.”

“We can stop here, if you want.”

“No, not yet. I want to hear more.”

Lana isn’t one to oppose Val’s wishes and therefore nods, switching to another name.  
“I might be able to show you something else that could be uplifting. I have demonstrated two out of the three aspects that I told you about last time – one diplomat and one intellectual. Now I want to show you a Force user as well.”  
A third array of images depicting a mirialan appears on the screen, this one being the youngest. It is another woman, but with short black hair and lilac eyes. Her skin is a slightly warmer green than Val’s and her facial markings are focused under her eyes and around her mouth. She is dressed in a set of brown, gold and white robes.  
“Currently, you have one family member who retains a high rank in the Jedi Order.”

Interest and surprise flourishes through Val’s eyes again, at least slightly forgetting the unfortunate aspects they discussed earlier.  
“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met any.”

“It’s not all too shocking, as this one has not attended the same battlefields as you.  
This is Jedi Master Kaarema Nih’etat and according to your lineage, she is apparently your second cousin.”

The small astonishment on Val’s face is soon infused with amusement as well.  
“Huh. Jedi Master, eh? Fascinating. Who would’ve thought that the two of us, with such close blood ties, would live such different lives?”

Lana smiles again, glad that Val is intrigued.  
“She’s not as dissimilar as you think. Kaarema is known for her temperance and patience, but also her intelligence and curiosity. Much like you, she studies history, archaeology and archival theories.”

Val doesn’t directly mirror Lana’s mood, but she is on the verge at least. She reaches out with her hand, running a few fingers slowly over the screen.  
“She sounds…like a pleasant person. We could have had many interesting debates, if our situations were different.”

This sounds somewhat final, as if she doesn’t believe in the opportunity, but Lana wants to approach it anyhow.  
“You wouldn’t want to meet her and the others, then?”

The joy displayed by Val is exchanged with traces of reluctance and doubt.  
“I…don’t know. I would relish the opportunity, I think, but I wonder if that is ever possible. These people live such different lives and our ideals don’t quite match up.”  
She lowers her hand, placing both of them in her own lap, while her eyes are lowered.  
“What if they spurn me for being part of the Empire, or even worse, being a Sith? It’s not like I suddenly want to join the Republic and they might see me as a traitor.”

The fear isn’t blatant, but it is hiding there under the surface, one that is built upon worst-case scenarios, of disappointing those she belongs with. Lana can sense it all and it ignites her sympathy. She wishes that she could prevent Val from feeling this way, but it’s not that simple.  
She raises a hand to gently caress her girlfriend’s cheek once more.  
“You’re still family.”

Val looks into her eyes again.  
“And how will they know that? It’s like you said, they think I’m dead. What proof do I have that I’m related to them, other than my words?”

Lana ponders the idea, having to admit that even with Val’s appearance, that could simply be viewed as a ploy.  
“Perhaps, but wouldn’t it at least be worth a try? We’re only speculating now, without knowing how they would actually react.”

There’s a slight shake of Val’s head, but she doesn’t immediately reject it. The wish, the yearning to see them is too strong to deny it completely.  
She exhales heavily and then rests her head against Lana’s shoulder.  
“I will give it some thought. Maybe once the war tones down, we can contact them and see what they say. I don’t want there to be conflict between us.”

Once more, Lana strokes her arms around Val, kissing the top of her head softly.  
“As you wish. I suppose it would be best not to disturb them while our nations fight.”

“Thank you. I’m sure a better chance will come eventually.”  


* * *

  
A few days after the revelation of Val’s family members, once Lana gains some alone time in her office within the Citadel, she fetches one of her customized holocomm units. She ordered it months ago, having it built with an internal scrambler, that makes it easier to hide one’s identity. After finding the right frequency across the various HoloNet connections that appear in the galaxy, she makes the call and waits for an answer.

Eventually, the image of a mirialan woman in her late 20s to early 30s appear on top of it.  
“Hello?”

“Is this Master Kaarema Nih’etat of the Jedi Order?”

Kaarema nods slowly.  
“That is my name, yes. Who is this? Your signal is weak or obscured somehow.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot tell you. However, I may have some information that is of interest to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I actually have some in-game screenshots of Kaarema[on my blog](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/secondary-swtor-character-pics.html). I played her as my latest Jedi Consular, although in my ficverse she is obviously not the Barsen'thor._
> 
> _And yeah, Lana doesn't entirely agree with Valcera's opinion regarding what to do. Valcera is reluctant and afraid to see her family, due to how they might react, which is the underlying reason for why she hasn't dared to dig into their history before. Or, you know, one of the reasons. Lana wants her to know, though, to help enhance her identity and pride._   
>  _Not saying that's the right thing to do, but she strongly believes in acting rather than waiting._


	29. A solemn offer

The two-way war that has now turned into a three-way one may appear to be all-encompassing for many sections of the galaxy, especially those who live in its path or at least nearby. Even citizens in Hutt space, who are not a direct target in any way, manages to gain sensations of feeling trapped, of potentially becoming the next victim.  
However, this is not a universal truth, and not all systems are either in the path of the war, nor even notice its destructive tendencies.

The Unknown Regions of space, as they’re known to the more central sectors, are outside of harm's way for the most part, being of no real concern to either of the Empires, nor the Republic. Some systems in this area are useful for hiding and that’s exactly what the formerly Republic-aligned ship ‘the Shielded Path’ and its crew have done. Well, their foremost purpose is actually to investigate a clue regarding the Emperor’s current whereabouts, but it helps that they avoid conflict at the same time.  
So far, their hunt in these regions hasn’t really led them to any valuable conclusions, but there are many more places to search before they’re fully done with the task at hand.

As Ktila is on the vessel with all three of her shipmates and they have nothing more to do on this particular world, the chiss is preparing to head towards the bridge after she drops off some items in the cargo bay and tell Kira to get them into hyperspace. However, before she can even leave the room, the intercom activates, and she hear the same woman’s voice.  
“Hey, Ktila, could you head to the bridge? We have uh…a situation”, she says with a slight bit of worry in her voice.

The chiss blinks confusedly at first, before she turns around and heads out the door immediately, getting into a swift pace as quickly as she can. She practically comes running into the bridge less than a minute later.  
“Kira, what’s wrong?”

She sweeps the room with her eyes, to see if anything is amiss, but no one else is present than the human in the pilot seat and except for the space station and planet outside their front window, there’s nothing more than empty space around them.  
The red-haired woman glances over her shoulder and then points towards one of the screens.  
“We’ve got an incoming call. The signal is encrypted, so I can’t trace its origin.”

Ah, that would explain it. With a call like this, it could be from practically anyone. Well, anyone with the right devices and equipment, anyway. Ktila wonders if this might have something to do with the Emperor, someone who could potentially have information. Probably isn’t, but if there’s even a chance, she needs to take it.  
“Alright, we might as well see what they have to say.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it to you.”

Interestingly, the call they receive is not only through audio, but with a holographic transmission as well. This is one surprising element to both of them, but the second is even more startling – the hologram that appears is of a very familiar twi’lek. Ktila and Kira turn to look at each other, before the former folds her arms and faces the person. This is going to be an interesting few minutes.  
“Supreme Chancellor Saresh.”

Leontyne Saresh offers a smile in return, moving her arms behind her back. She’s standing in a fairly casual outfit at this time, with only a navy-blue shirt, some white pants and a silver-colored tie. It’s hard to say where she is.  
“Master Ktila. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m glad to see you’re safe and sound somewhere out there, and that it’s still possible to reach you.”

Perhaps they should’ve tried to avoid areas with regular communication arrays, but that wouldn’t do much for them, as they still need a certain connection to the HoloNet. Not to mention that Ktila actually wants to be available to a few people in this galaxy.  
She exhales through her nose and shakes her head.  
“What do you want?”

Leontyne arches her brow somewhat, looking a little amused, before she snorts.  
“Now that’s not the type of reaction I’ve received from you in the past. I’m unsure if it’s refreshing or not.”

She forgot that while this Chancellor can be quite charismatic and professional, she does not necessarily lack humor in private.  
“Well, I can’t say I expected to receive a call from you either. Surely, you’ve heard the news of my altered status at this time?”

“I have, months ago. But even if you’re not a Jedi anymore, that doesn’t remove you as a citizen of the Republic.”

“Perhaps not, but that means very little.”

“To some, it doesn’t.”  
It seems like Leontyne starts to pace around her position a bit, but she still stays within the image, as if the transmitter follows her movements.  
“I wanted to talk about your current situation, if you don’t mind. I had hoped that we could come to some kind of accord.”  
She notes how Ktila opens her mouth, but raises a hand to interrupt her and get another word in first.  
“I realize it’s not that simple to solve your problems and that’s not what I aim to do, but a discussion couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Ktila takes a deep breath and shares a gaze with Kira. The human shrugs and Ktila figures that she probably won’t be able to simply get rid of the Chancellor without at least hearing her out. She has likely deserved it anyhow.  
“Very well. I’ll listen.”

“I’m not sure how up-to-date you are with the war, but let me fill you in regardless.  
The Republic is currently facing a lot of hardships in our fight across the galaxy, not just with the Sith Empire but the ‘new’ one as well, led by Darth Malgus. Our old enemy has taken a few steps back, which is fortunate, but as we weren’t fully prepared for their assault to begin with, it has been hard to recuperate. You still can’t say that we’ve gone on the offensive.  
On top of this, the New Empire’s own attacks have not been insignificant, and they are not afraid to sabotage for both sides. In several battles, they have jumped right into the middle of our confrontation and struck with a startling efficiency that neither of us were prepared for, before departing again. They want to weaken both sides.”

Ktila didn’t need to hear all of this, but she also didn’t want to interrupt the other woman.  
“Maybe I’m not so heavily involved anymore, but I still know what’s going on. This is quite a summarized version anyhow, so why are you telling me about it?”

“Because I wanted you to hear the state of our position, so you understand when I say that we could use your help.”

Ktila both looks and feels a little bit annoyed. She should probably have expected this type of call at some point and somewhere in the depths of her mind, she likely had. It’s not that she blames the Republic for doing it, only that she wishes they’d understand she wants to be left alone.  
To her, it feels a bit like Saresh is playing on her sympathy and compassion, knowing that Ktila does ultimately care for their fates, even if she pretends to have her focus elsewhere at this time. Her life would likely be easier if she didn’t, but the whole purpose of chasing after the Emperor is to protect the people.

It takes a few seconds, but she does eventually respond.  
“Was it Satele who sent you? Does the Grand Master not dare to speak to me herself anymore, so now she’s asking you to do it?”

Leontyne watches her skeptically for a few moments and by this time, she has stopped moving.  
“Now why would you assume that?”

“I know that the two of you talk to each other a lot.”

The Chancellor sighs and appears like she doubts the necessity of this claim.  
“First of all, Ktila, I am the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. I don’t answer to the Grand Master, nor to any Jedi at all. In certain cases, it is quite the opposite.  
Secondly, no, this doesn’t have anything to do with master Shan. She does obviously think that your choice was unfortunate, and I believe she’s pretty upset – even if she hides it – but this is ultimately not about her. It’s about you and the Republic.”

“Well, there is nothing more between us, so that doesn’t really work.”

“Isn’t there? Are you saying that you have so quickly discarded everything that the Republic stands for, all it entails? Does justice, righteousness, freedom and equality not matter to you anymore?”

An unfair angle, but not inaccurate. Ktila diverts her eyes.  
“…of course they do.”

“From what the Grand Master has told me, you believe you must stop the remnants of the Emperor, yes? That is an admirable goal, one I respect and can certainly understand as well.  
However, it’s because of this choice that it confuses me why you would abandon our current fight. To defeat the Sith Empire is to defeat the Emperor, which you surely must realize. One can’t happen without the other.”

Interestingly, it is now Ktila who starts to pace across her own location, over the bridge. Kira still hasn’t left her seat, but sits silently as she glances between the two women. The chiss doesn’t even need to look at Kira, as she can sense the slight tension within their Force bond.  
“I know what you believe, Chancellor, because Satele shares your view. I, however, do not. They are separate entities, because their goals are not the same.  
The Empire is a problematic organization and society, one that can certainly use a lot of work, but I believe it’s one that is just as multifaceted as the Republic.”

Leontyne continues to watch her, but crosses her arms in a doubtful fashion.  
“I hope you understand when I say I’m skeptical of this. I have firsthand experience with imperial society.”

“Sure, it is one that in its current state definitely needs improvement and I hope that it will drift towards other, more sustainable principles, but there are those who strive to achieve such goals in the Empire.  
Personally, I think that those who believe the Empire can and should change, and already operate within that faction, should be aided in their efforts in some way, or at least openly supported. This sounds like a better conclusion to me than defeating and destroying the entire nation.”

She knew she would meet opposition no matter who she spoke to, but Saresh is probably one of the foremost obstructions. The Chancellor slowly shakes her head.  
“I don’t see how that would help. The Empire has remained like this for centuries, over a millennium. Why would they suddenly change now?”

“And you know why they haven’t until this point? Because of the Emperor. He is the singular element of the Empire that has held them in check, that has provided them with their current cause and direction, never let them stray. He is not just the dominance of the Sith, but a void, a destructive power that wishes to swallow the whole galaxy.”

“I believe you’ve told me this already, sometime in the past. But you defeated him.”

Ktila has ceased her walk now and stands next to the chair where Kira is sitting, putting her hand on its back.  
“That’s what the Jedi and the Republic believed at the time, but it was only one out of several pillars of power. He has more, many more. If he can’t be stopped, Chancellor, then nothing else will matter, because we’ll all be dead. No matter what any of you believe, I know he has that power.  
This is why you can’t say that he is the same as the Empire, because all it was to him was a tool. He used this society and its citizens, controlled them in order to reach his ultimate goal of destruction. They are no more important to him than the Republic and their victory is irrelevant.”

While Leontyne does still shown signs of skepticism, which is reasonable, she at least chooses to listen.  
“It doesn’t change who they are, what they have done.”

Ktila takes a few steps closer, being right in front of the projector now. To Saresh, it probably doesn’t look any different, though.  
“But it can. Without the Emperor, I believe the Empire will be able to grow freely into a new path, one that we might not even know by the same name anymore. It could probably still use a push in the right direction, but the possibility is there.  
What this push cannot be, is war. Violence begets violence and I feel like this whole conflict with them only allows the Sith to make the assumption that their methods are right.”

Leontyne rolls her eyes.  
“Need I remind you that it was the Sith who started the conflict to begin with? Even without the Emperor’s direct order.”

“Yeah, I know and that was obviously wrong, but the Republic can end it.  
The Empire is quickly losing people who want this war to work, they’re retreating from your planets and they’re preparing different ideas for the future. Don’t chase them, Chancellor. Hold back your fleets and instead offer to help the Sith and imperials that don’t want war.”

For a few seconds, it remains silent between them, as Saresh’s gaze turns distant. Eventually, a frown appears on her brow.  
“I think you’re being fooled, Ktila. I know you have a Sith on your ship, one of those purebloods - one that used to be a servant of the Emperor. He has poisoned your way of thinking.”

Of course she’d bring that up. Perhaps it was unwise to take Scourge out in the open a few years back, let everyone see that they were working together.  
“He has nothing to do with this. He may have helped me succeed and showed me the path to destroy his old master, but his views differ from mine regarding the Empire’s purpose. I have my own opinion.  
Either way, as the Republic is not doing enough to fight the Emperor right now, I won’t involve myself in your fight. Not for as long as that creature still lives.”

Leontyne’s scowl grows and she seems to lean forward, holding her hands at something. A table, perhaps.  
“And what if the Republic dies in your absence? What if we are not strong enough to last against the onslaughts?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chancellor. If you fall because one single Jedi couldn’t be with you, I doubt you would have lasted long with me at your side anyway.”

Their eyes continue to meet across the holographic displays for a few seconds, until Leontyne relents. Her stance loosens, as does her expression, and she stands up in a straighter pose.  
“I’m disappointed to hear this, but not surprised. Satele told me enough about your last conversation, but I still had to make an attempt.”  
She places her arms in the same location as they were earlier, behind her.  
“You should know that I also want the Emperor dead, Ktila, but I can’t make any grand offerings of aid right now. It would be too great of a sacrifice, when the war still matters more.  
However, at some point in the future, if you truly believe that you have located a chance to strike directly at the bastard, so that you can kill him once and for all, give us a call.”

Ktila actually looks mildly surprised. Over a holocomm, she can’t really sense the Chancellor’s emotions, but it does sound genuine.  
“Why would you say that?”

“Because I do care. The Emperor has to die, I know that, even if I believe the Empire needs to be included in the result. I acknowledge that you probably know what you’re doing in your hunt and I won’t oppose you, so if you truly find something about the Emperor that happens to be critical, the Republic should be there to help you strike him down. It’s the least we can do.”

This is an unexpected offer, especially as Ktila assumed she would have another conversation that would go nowhere. She’s surprised by how understanding Saresh seems to be. She has to admit it’s nice to consider that the Republic hasn’t completely abandoned her.  
With a contemplative look in her eyes, Ktila inclines her head.  
“I’ll…keep it in mind.” She pauses for a few seconds, pondering another angle. Perhaps she should reach out too, if Leontyne is willing to.  
“Look, I realize that your views on the Empire is justified to a certain extent. I know what you suffered in the past.”

A small frown appears on the Chancellor’s face again, but not too harshly.  
“What’s your point?”, she asks in an even tone.

“Well, you should know that you aren’t the only one who has. Others in the Empire, that are now free, have done the same and some of them are the foremost people trying to change their society from within.  
Maybe you don’t care, or perhaps you think they’re doing it wrong, but if you really want to make a difference and do something that no other leader of the Republic has tried, I think you should give these people a chance. You could create freedom among them, without bloodshed.”

Perhaps not the type of offer she had expected from Ktila either, which is why Leontyne snorts amusedly.  
“I doubt it’s ever that simple, but who knows? Maybe I’ll keep an eye open.”

“That’s all I can ask. If you ever do, I suggest trying to locate a way to speak with Darth Imperius.”

“Thanks for the tip. Now, I have places to be and I bet you do as well. Stay safe out there.”

“You too. May the Force be with you.”

Once the call ends, Kira turns to look at her friend.  
“Well, that was…unexpected”, she comments.

Ktila isn’t facing her, but instead nods slowly with a distant look in her eyes.  
“Yeah, it certainly was. Perhaps she had some small hope that this would work.”

Kira hesitates, seeming like she isn’t sure if she should continue or not, but she isn’t one to keep her thoughts to herself. Ktila would sense it anyway.  
“You think…this happened because of Grand Master Shan, after all?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s not impossible. Saresh is capable of making these decisions on her own, though.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

With this reluctant tone, Ktila turns towards her, fully viewing the other Jedi this time. She walks closer and puts a hand on Kira’s shoulder.  
“I know you still feel for the Order, Kira.”

Kira sighs, slumping into her chair somewhat as she shuts her eyes.  
“It’s not easy to let go.”

“And no one says you have to. We aren’t out here to oppose the Jedi or their teachings. We simply have to go our own path for now.”

“I guess so, but for how long?”

“I don’t know. For as long as we need to, in order to stop the Emperor, I suppose.”

Eventually, Kira turns to face her again, meeting the red eyes while searching for recognition.  
“Hope you don’t blame me for wanting to return one day.”

Ktila leans down, wrapping her arms around Kira and hugs her tightly.  
“You know I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I don't quite enjoy how Bioware has written Saresh at all times, especially in later content. I liked her in vanilla, even if I don't always agree with her choices. I hope to be able to establish her as someone slightly different in my fics, than the "dictator" that Bioware tried to make her._


	30. Fragility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Not only did this chapter become much longer than I wanted it to be, but also way more dramatic than I anticipated. It was supposed to be just casual fluff, but then I took a different route._   
> 

It has finally happened. Some might call it unthinkable, possibly even unacceptable, although perhaps not exactly unexpected. In some way, it actually felt fairly inevitable and indisputable, as why would they not wish to obtain her?  
The Emperor’s Wrath has been kidnapped by a Jedi, taken away from the grasp of the Empire and flown across the galaxy to an unknown location.

Okay, that might be a dramatic exaggeration, but it is definitely one way to interpret the entire event.  
The truth of the matter is that Ktila came over to her girlfriend one day and convinced Zal’riva that she needed some time off. After all, how long has it actually been since she took a vacation, especially one where they could be together? Ktila isn’t sure that has ever happened. Their last encounter on the fleet was obviously enjoyable, but clearly not enough.

Together, they have arrived somewhere on the snowy regions of a world in neutral space, one that Ktila hasn’t been willing to reveal the name of, as to not give Zal any room to leave before they actually feel somewhat rested. To enhance this notion even further, they rode here on the Shielded Path, not accompanied by the Tempest. Ktila wasn’t going to give her a chance of escape or a comm line to the Empire. The galaxy can wait.

As they wander through the cold together, both women are dressed in more than their usual attires. Zal does still use her coat, but both are also wearing thick pants, jackets and scarves, to keep themselves relatively warm. On the battlefield, Zal can often be seen wearing armor that covers her lekku, in order to protect them from a variety of weapons, but at this time they are instead enveloped in warm cloth, to reduce discomfort.

When Ktila chooses to glance in Zal’s direction, she can see that the twi’lek’s expression reveals a small bit of irritation.  
“What’s wrong?”

Zal doesn’t face her, but instead continues to focus on the snow below them, to not lose her footing in the unruly landscape. There are no real roads here, only this white substance intermingled with rocks, slopes and the dirt beneath.  
“Nothing”, she mutters.

“That’s a whole lot of pouting for just ‘nothing’.”

A small frown slides onto the Sith’s brow, when she finally turns towards her girlfriend.  
“…I’m not pouting.”

Ktila has to suppress a giggle.  
“If you say so.”

Giving in at least to a small degree, Zal sighs and shakes her head.  
“I just…  
Was it really necessary for us to walk all this way? We could have taken the ship.”

“Don’t like taking walks?”

“Not in the freezing cold, no.”

Ktila’s amusement increases, and she lifts her hand to caress one of Zal’s arms, even if it mostly interacts with the extra jacket’s sleeve.  
“I figured you could endure it.”

Some skepticism slips into Zal’s gaze.  
“Uh, sure, if I absolutely have to, but I wouldn’t choose this type of environment for a vacation spot.  
I grew up in a warm and humid jungle. Not exactly a place where you see a lot of snow and ice, so it’s not my favorite climate.”

It is impossible to hold back the giggle that erupts from her now.  
“You’re pretty cute when you complain.”

Zal has to roll her eyes, realizing that she enters quite a grumpy mood, but that won’t improve by someone teasing her.  
“What are we doing here anyway? Did you just wish to torment me or is there an actual plan involved in this mess?”

Once she has calmed down, Ktila arches her brow.  
“You think being with me is torment?”

“…don’t twist my words.”

Ktila wasn’t actually insulted, but it’s hard to resist being playful in these situations. For now, she doesn’t immediately explain.  
“How long has it been since you last meditated?”

The twi’lek blinks confusedly.  
“That’s an odd question. I’m a Sith, so meditation isn’t usually part of my daily routine.”

“Well, you still do it.”

“Occasionally, yes, but not with as much…introspection - or whatever you want to call it - as your former Order.”

Ktila nods slowly and once more directs her attention to the path ahead.  
“I’ve heard as much, and that is quite unfortunate. I realize that we differ, and it may be the reason why you and I work so well, but I believe it’s important for both sides to look into ourselves, to know who we are. If we can’t examine our actions and beliefs, we can’t grow.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“I don’t think that the Jedi always utilize their meditation techniques for the right reasons, as they are often used as means to suppress emotions, but there are other Force Orders and faiths that employ them in a variety of ways.  
Around the galaxy, there are some places that are better attuned to the Force, which makes it much easier to meditate and search one's spirit. We’re heading towards one such area right now, a type of Force cave, which is only one out of many that the Jedi have discovered in the past.”

Zal appears much more fascinated now than she did before.  
“Ah, I know of such places. The Sith utilize them as well, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they exploit the contents. Due to this special connection to the Force, my Order often prefers to extract raw materials or experiment upon them.”

Ktila shakes her head.  
“I know and it’s disappointing. Locations like these, with strong ties to essences beyond the physical, are best left alone, to remain as they are. You can truly discover fascinating aspects of both nature and people by exploring, rather than destroying them.”

Zal doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t seem to lean towards either viewpoint. Perhaps she simply doesn’t care.  
Eventually, they arrive at the entrance to some kind of passage, a dark cave or tunnel. It’s pitch black within, so there’s no opportunity for either to guess how deep it goes, but the energies emanating from it are unmistakable.

Before they proceed, Ktila lifts out a flashlight from her jacket, so that they won’t stumble on anything on the way.  
Once inside, Zal’s eyes sweep the scenery, surveying the appearance of the walls and roof. They are untouched by typical societal interference, but it’s still difficult to say if this came about naturally or not.  
“Somehow, I imagined we would be walking into one of those lightsaber crystal caves. But this isn’t that kind of area, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. The Force can materialize in all types of objects and biomes, not just through crystals.”

“Seems like it, yeah. I can definitely sense it around us, but it’s strange to consider that it would be so strong in a place not shaped or altered by people."

The duo continues to walk into the darkness, with the entrance slowly disappearing behind them, as the road curves ahead. Eventually, it can no longer be seen, and they are surrounded by nothing but rocks, shadows and dust.  
When she believes that she has found a suitable location, Ktila stops and sits down on a fairly sizeable and flat rock. She offers one hand to Zal.

“Come, sit with me.”  
The twi’lek hesitates briefly, giving their surroundings another quick glance, before she accepts. She corrects her clothes prior to finding a good spot.  
“There was a site like this back on Corellia, actually, fairly deep underground. Some of my masters in the Green Jedi used to take us there, partially to meditate, but also to train certain mental abilities.”

“Like what?”

“There are special meditative techniques that can connect people on a much stronger level, through the Force. It can help us peer into one another, in order to interact, soothe or strengthen. For those with Force bonds, like the one we share, this is said to be even more profound.”

It appears Zal is starting to get the purpose of this little excursion and she inclines her head, interest swirling through her gaze.  
“I see. And you want to attempt one of these techniques here?”

“If you are willing, yes.”

Zal’s eyes gain a somewhat faraway look as she ponders the possibilities, the options available. Shortly after, she snorts amusedly.  
“This is a long way to go, simply to meditate.”

“True, but I also think it’s necessary. What I want us to do can only be performed in a serene location like this and it meant that we couldn’t have any disturbing elements around.  
Besides, I figured we could both use a break, after all we have gone through as of late.”

It seems she has won the twi’lek over with these arguments, as the other woman now shrugs.  
“I don’t see why not. Could be interesting, as I’ve never tried it before.”  
She displays a small smile, entwines their fingers and caresses the back of Ktila’s hand with her thumb.  
“And I never turn down a chance to be with you.”

Ktila mirrors this expression, as her gaze fills with affection and gratitude.  
“I know.”  
She only barely manages to contain her passions at this time, preferring to throw herself into the strong arms of her companion, but that’s not why they’re here. There will be time for such activities later.  
For now, she alters her position, sitting down directly in front of the twi’lek and crosses her legs.  
“Sit like I do and put your hands in mine. Close your eyes and try to concentrate.”

Even if she does what she’s told, Zal’s face still shows clear signs of mild annoyance intermingled with amusement.  
“Yes, I know how to start a meditation session, thank you. I’m not a complete novice.”

While Ktila follows her own instructions, her smile widens, and she continues regardless.  
“Try to clear your mind of any unnecessary and stray thoughts. Both your physical and mental focus has to be on our connection, the spiritual link between us.”

It’s difficult to determine how long either of them sit like this, or in what way their surroundings affect them, but it cannot be denied that it happens. After a while, they both feel sensations of being enveloped, wrapped in the comforting embrace of the cosmic Force, an energy beyond mortal minds and understanding. They disappear into the depths of this entity, an act that can only be described as if they transcend their own consciousness and travel into a state of existence that is outside of regular reality.

All of this is a rather fascinating experience, but Zal won’t pretend as if she believes it is any different from normal contemplation activities. They are still clearly in the cave, as she can feel herself sitting on a solid surface, the same temperature in the air and how their hands are wrapped around one another. When she tries to confirm this by opening her eyes, she is startled and instinctively flinches.

Instead of the musty cave, the sight that she now witnesses, is the emptiness of space, filled with stars and planets. It’s familiar, as she has seen it many times before outside her ship’s window.  
She doesn’t understand how it’s possible, but it’s like they’re drifting in between these celestial objects, unaffected by the vacuum, gravitational forces or any number of factors that should make such an option unattainable.

“Don’t be afraid.” She quickly whirls to see a smiling Ktila, with her eyes now open as well. “We’re not actually in any danger.”

Zal blinks confusedly for a few moments, but then continues to observe their surroundings.  
“What…is this?”

“It’s the manifestation of our Force bond. Well, one of them, anyway.”

“And we’re still…in the cave?”

“Our corporeal bodies are, yes, but this is more than a mental image. Our minds are locked in an intermediate realm, made possible by the energies in our physical location.”

It can’t be ignored that Zal finds this quite unnerving, as she can’t remember ever going this deeply into an introspective session, but that’s not the entire truth.  
“It is…strangely beautiful. I can’t remember when or if I’ve ever received a vision like this before.”

Ktila takes a moment to absorb the view as well, but not nearly as long as Zal. Instead, she closes her eyes again, emitting a content sigh.  
“It is quite fantastic, yes, but also soothing. Sitting like this binds our thoughts and minds together, allowing our essences to bolster and aid one another. Our bond grows more stable this way.”

While the chiss seems to prefer sitting and wallowing in this sensation, Zal is much more distracted by her curiosity. She rises to her feet and pokes around on the ‘ground’, sensing that she can continue walking if she wants to. She doesn’t know how that’s possible with no real floor, but reminds herself it’s only a vision.  
Ktila remains by her seat, observing the Sith as she explores this region. Occasionally, Zal tries to get closer to any of the visible stars or planets, even stretching her hands out towards them, but can’t reach. They seem to be too far away.

“This is not actually our galaxy, Zal. If you want to touch them, you have to extend your will and make them come closer.”

“Hmm. They aren’t just decoration, then?”

“No, they’ve simply taken a shape that our bodies can easily perceive. They represent all types of elements within our minds – thoughts, beliefs, memories and more. If you want to experience them, you can access these entities.”

With a steadily increasing interest, Zal decides to try it out. She embraces calm for a moment and opens herself up for her subconscious to offer some kind of insight. It does not take long until something from within starts to pull her in a specific direction and she follows, trying to grasp at the suggestion.  
What soon drifts towards her is a planet, one that has a particularly eager aura to it, but its surface glows in mild hues of violet. When it comes into her vicinity, she lifts her hand to touch it and the planet shatters, releasing mental images instead.

They both get to experience a particular moment in time, one that is familiar. It is the first time they met in secret, away from the judging eyes of the Republic and Empire. Many aspects of it penetrate their thoughts simultaneously – the emotions that they felt that day, the scenery, the sounds that surrounded every corner. The uncertainty and curiosity of Ktila is contrasted with the caution, yet excitement from Zal.

It’s unclear how long they linger in this particular memory, but it is blatantly fascinating and enjoyable, practically nostalgic. Zal can’t restrain her smile.  
“That was…different. I could feel my own emotions from back then, but also yours.”

She looks at Ktila, who nods, almost in anticipation.  
“It’s because of this technique, how it has bound us together. In here, we are as close to being one as we can ever be. If we try to focus even further, there are many sections of our lives that we could explore.”

“Is that so? Let’s try it”, says the Sith and returns to the many worlds at their disposal.

While she would definitely want to attempt reliving so many memories together, there is another element that gets her attention. In fact, it might even be classified as a disturbance. Her mind has already locked onto this entity, but she has to actually search with her eyes to locate it with her other senses.  
Eventually, she spots it far up in the darkness, hiding amongst other beings. Curiously, its existence is somewhat brighter, almost like it burns.

“Hey, do you see that up there? It’s not like the rest. What is that?”

Ktila follows Zal’s finger and views the same object for a few moments, but eventually shakes her head.  
“It’s…nothing. Let’s leave it for now.”

The Sith arches her brow and turns to watch Ktila with inquisitive eyes. It cannot be seen on her face, but her mind is clearly attempting to hide something. Trying to fight it unfortunately only makes it more intriguing for Zal.  
“I don’t see how it would hurt.”

Ktila furrows her brow to a very minor degree.  
“Zal, please…”

“I’ll only take a peek. It’ll be fine.”

The distant and flaming entity drifts down towards them, coming dangerously close and despite attempting to restrain herself, Ktila can’t last. When it’s too close for comfort, she rises to her feet.  
“No, Zal, wait!”

But she does not. As it comes into her reach, Zal quickly pulls her hand around the weirdly twisted sun and lets it dissolve just like the planet did earlier. Compared to the pleasant memory that they got to experience previously, this one instead displays the image of an old scowling man, with an alarming aura around him. His completely black gaze somehow seems to penetrate her existence and she hears angry words in her head.  
_“You are nothing!”_

Zal winces and takes a step back, but the vision has already dispersed before she can somehow react further. She actually holds her breath for a moment or two, and feels how her heart has begun to beat a bit faster, likely due to the traces of fear.  
“What the hell was that?”, she finally asks when she has recovered.

Ktila lifts a hand to her face, covering her eyes with it.  
“Let’s…let’s not think about it.”

“Was that…Vitiate?”

“Zal, please…”

“It was, wasn’t it?”  
She waits a few seconds for a response, but doesn’t receive one.  
“Or am I mistaken?”

Despite a severe presence of reluctance, Ktila gathers enough courage to remove the hand, but her gaze is still diverted elsewhere. She doesn’t dare to fully face her partner.  
“It was, yes. He and I…have interacted on a few occasions. A few memories of him still exist, I guess.”

“You mean during your capture?”

It’s difficult to tell exactly what she’s feeling at this time, despite the link, which is somewhat distressing. It’s like she’s purposefully trying to hide.  
“Look…can we just move on? It’s not important.”

It sounds a little too dismissive, especially for Zal’s taste. Instead of following this suggestion, the Sith furrows her brow and starts to reexamine the area, scouring the imaginative landscape. Her mental abilities reach out, searching for similar disconcerting aspects as before. Now that she is more aware exactly what it entails, detecting them becomes easier.  
One after another, fires ignite in the sky, until they litter the otherwise so peaceful and darkened expanse.

When she’s satisfied, Zal folds her arms and resumes her full attention on her girlfriend.  
“Just a few, huh? Ktila, they’re all over. I almost can’t take a step without stumbling into one of these.”

Ktila hesitates and swallows, probably hoping to find the right words, but none are made available to her. She turns away, showing her back to the other woman.  
Zal doesn’t need to ask, nor guess, as the response is now being exposed through their bond. The uncertainty, the fear, the anxiety – all of them grow and thrive, deeply embedded in the otherwise so firm exterior, corrupting the stability.

Compassion takes ahold of her instead, and Zal closes the distance to her beloved. She slips her arm around Ktila’s waist from behind, gently resting her nose against the dark blue-black hair.  
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she inquiries, no louder than a whisper.

The shivers are now impossible to ignore, even if they are barely noticeable.  
“Because I didn’t want to scare you.”

Zal locks their hands together, kissing the top of Ktila’s head.  
“Your safety and health is more important.”

Her partner has to take a few moments to recover, swallowing again and leaning further into the embrace.  
“Ever since the capture, things have been going downhill. I…don’t know how to describe it, but sometimes I feel like I’m breaking apart. At first, I was sure that I survived unscathed, unaffected by his tricks and corruption, but now I’m starting to wonder if it had much more long-lasting effects.  
What if these decisions aren’t made by me, Zal? What if the reason I continue to hunt Vitiate isn’t a wish or an obsession, but a command?”

The severity of the questions is enhanced by the sound of her voice and the feelings that emanate from her. Due to the nature of this connection, they slowly begin to influence Zal as well, but she tries to maintain her composure. She has to be strong, for Ktila.  
She tightens the embrace, nuzzling the hair in a soft manner.  
“You shouldn’t think like that. You are your own person, not controlled by that monster.”

“But how can I be sure? Scourge has told me that this wouldn’t be the first time it has happened. Revan, Malak, Exar Kun, Mandalore the Ultimate – his presence has infiltrated other people’s minds before, reshaped their personalities so subtly that they can’t see the difference, whether it was by choice or force.”  
She exhales heavily.  
“There is so much I have experienced in the past and I don’t fully remember it all. I have so many big memory gaps from the several months I spent in captivity and…it frightens me. What if he planted parts of his essence inside of me, in a way I can’t detect? What if all the things I’m doing is just part of his plan? And then when I least expect it, he might take control again.”  
She removes one of her hands from Zal’s grasp and turns the palm up, so that she can look at it. Small tremors currently run through it.  
“I don’t want to be his puppet, Zal. I don’t want to hurt people I care for. I have to stop him at every cost…but that may consume me as well.”

It’s not rare for Ktila to open up, especially about her worries regarding Vitiate or her decisions, but she hasn’t spoken this much about the repercussions of the Emperor keeping her locked up. Zal finally understands why she kept silent, the doubt that exists in such a scenario.  
After a bit of a pause, Zal lowers her mouth close to Ktila’s left ear.  
“That was why you took us here, wasn’t it?”

Ktila closes her eyes.  
“Yes. I…I had to get away.”  
She inhales shakily and then leans even further against Zal, gripping both of the twi’leks hands tightly, craving their touch.  
“I need you, Zal. During those months, your presence was the only thing that kept me going, that helped me get back to who I am. Without you, I would be lost. Master Din’s spirit found me, but only because I kept the image of you close to my heart, to protect me.”

“You’ve only briefly mentioned this before.”

The chiss nods curtly, before she continues.  
“Back when I visited the temple on Dromund Kaas, I experienced visions of the past and the future, things that I…don’t know what to make of. Since then, they’ve kept infiltrating my thoughts and dreams.  
I had to get away, to find some way to…center myself. But I can’t do this alone. Our bond is one of those things that matters to me the most. I…wanted to lean into your strength.”

As she speaks, Zal’s nose is brushing softly against Ktila’s cheek.  
“Why didn’t you just ask me, then?”

It may be true that she needs this, more than she admits, but it is also combined with a very blatant portion of guilt.  
“Because I didn’t want to put more pressure on you. You’ve suffered so much during your life, way worse than me, and I didn’t want to burden you any further. I don’t wish to weigh you down.”

Her concern is likely justified to a certain extent and Zal will not blame her for any emotional responses, as those are inevitable. However, she also can’t let it remain unchallenged.  
Placing her hands on the chiss’ sides, she slowly turns Ktila around, making them face each other. The Jedi’s eyes are still drawn away, but Zal places a hand under her chin, slowly pushing it up, allowing their gazes to clash.

“There is nothing in this galaxy that matters to me more than you, Ktila. Don’t belittle your own struggles, nor how important you truly are. You are amazing.  
By being together, I am not just your strength, but you are mine as well. You are why I fight, why I find a reason to continue and strive for a better future. Don’t hide your fears from me, Ktila. Your concerns are mine, and we should share everything, so that we can deal with it together.”

Ktila listens intently to every word, letting them be her guidance and hope. She has always acknowledged how much Zal’s support means to her, how every difficult situation can be tackled with merely being close to her. Now, she recognizes how much she underestimated it.  
A tear rolls down her cheek, but one summoned by relief, to know that she shouldn’t hide herself, no matter how ashamed she may become.

Her hands rise up and wrap around the back of Zal’s neck, pulling the twi’lek down. The Sith accepts without question, leaning into any offer of physicality that Ktila gives her. The kiss is one of desire and love, but clearly imbued with elements of need and perhaps even desperation. Their hands roam across each other’s bodies, as they ignore the rest of their surroundings, letting the here and now devour everything.  
Slowly, it is as if they are both being absorbed into the embrace, merging closer than ever. This mental link not only allows them to interact, but increases every sensation and touch, to heights that they could never previously fathom. It’s somewhat frightening, but also liberating.

It’s hard to tell when or how it all ends, but eventually, they find themselves together in the cave again, still holding hands in the darkness.  
Ktila looks directly at Zal, a faint smile on her lips and the light of the lamp is reflected in her red eyes.  
“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _They are very dependent on each other now, but that isn't necessarily advantageous in all situations. We'll see how that affects them in the future._


	31. Front cover

Due to the nature of the Sith Empire and the Dark Council, interesting events and occurrences can gain quite widespread attention, especially if it involves people in power. Whenever members of the Council do something of importance, the rumors explode and traverse the various worlds within its borders, like lightning strikes through the Kaas jungle. Depending on how those in the spotlight manage to handle not just the results, but the power plays that follow, it can have a variety of different effects.

Today, in the outskirts of Kaas City, Valcera is standing with a number of other people, as they all anticipate the arrival of a particular individual. Khem Val is there, of course, as is Francine, who are both part of her entourage. A squad of imperial soldiers are included in this equation, as are a handful of Dark Honor Guards. The purpose of the two latter groups is not just to protect her, but to also keep the audience that has gathered at bay.

While they wait, they soon hear footsteps behind them and when Val looks over her shoulder, she sees how Lana comes running, dressed in her official attire, with the long cape flapping behind her. She is moving without an escort, but she does keep a datapad in her hand.  
Once she reaches their position, she bends forward and puts hands on her knees, while she pants heavily.  
“I…I apologize for being late”, she says in between breaths. “I had some last-minute work to finalize.”

Val views her girlfriend with amusement in her eyes and casually folds her arms.  
“Don’t worry, I know, darling. I’m not angry. In fact, it’s rather refreshing to see that you are the one not on time for once.”

Lana manages to release a chuckle as she straightens her back and correct her hair, which is a bit of a mess after that sprint.  
“True. What is it you always say? The important ones arrive last?”

“Tsk. Fashionably late, but sure.”

Usually, the two would embrace each other and kiss by now, but as they’re out and about in public, they have to refrain from it and act more professional. Getting handsy with all these cameras around, would put a lot of unwanted pictures on every datapad and terminal in the Empire, after the HoloNet picks it up.  
Lana takes a moment to survey her girlfriend, seeing that her outfit is somewhat different. Val is still wearing robes, but has opted for a combination of colors in gold, purple and black today, rather than the usual red, black and white. The armor pieces that protect her are slimmer as well, covering the shoulders, chest, abdomen, wrists and waist.

“Interesting color scheme”, she remarks.

Val doesn’t even need to reexamine herself, displaying the type of self-confidence which tells onlookers that she’s aware of the appealing nature of her appearance. She runs a hand up to her hair and corrects her bangs. The back of it is held in a longer ponytail today and rests over her shoulder.  
“Felt like having a change, to give a different impression. Dark Councilors are sometimes judged for their fashion, after all.”

Lana merely smiles and leaves her hands behind her back.  
“True. I suppose you do tend to be quite knowledgeable about such aspects.”

Off to the side, Lana notices how Francine suddenly blinks in surprise and lifts up a holocomm from her pocket, which is receiving a call. She checks what frequency its coming from and then sighs. The hologram that pops up above it is, of course, Simiris.  
The assistant strokes a hand through her own shoulder-length hair and tries to turn around, so that she’s not facing the rest of the group.

“Hello, Sim.”

The woman over the hologram folds her arms and tilts her head slightly.  
“So, you finally answer. Been trying twice already. How’s it going?”

Francine clears her throat.  
“Uh, it hasn’t even started, you know. We’re still waiting.”

“Ah. Your ‘intriguing guest’ hasn’t arrived yet?

“Not yet, no, but he should be here any minute.”

“And here I was hoping he would cancel.”

Simiris’ voice sounds rather dry when she says it, but Francine knows it’s much sincerer in actuality. Francine’s lips curl into a smile and she rolls her eyes.  
“Tsk, don’t be like that. We will see each other later.”

“I suppose. I regret that I couldn’t be there, as I would have liked to see you in a tie.”

“Pff. I’m just using a uniform, silly. No ties involved.”

“Of course, I was only kidding. Watch yourself out there, though, will you? Too many Sith in one place can get dangerous.”

Francine arches her brow skeptically, wondering whether her girlfriend is still joking or not.  
“What? Sim, you know Imperius and Arkous aren’t like that. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s what they always say.”

After the call ends, Francine adjusts her outfit and looks a bit embarrassed when she addresses the two Sith once more, who are now staring at her.  
“Sorry about that. I couldn’t keep ignoring her calls.”

Val waves a hand to dismiss it.  
“No need to do that, dear. I understand.”

Lana turns a curious gaze in Val’s direction.  
“Why couldn’t she be here? Did you not want her to attend?”

“What? Not at all. I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to come.”

“Yeah, Sim was just busy with a task related to her work”, Francine informs them. “I think she’s also waiting for someone, so she checks in from time to time.”

“Well, that’s sweet of her. Or overprotective, depending on how you look at it”, Lana comments.

While they stand there chatting, Val suddenly nods and points at something in the distance.  
“Another shuttle is coming our way. That has to be Arkous.”

Just like she predicted, the imperial shuttle slows down within the outskirts of the city and then proceeds to aim for the landing pad nearby, the one specifically assigned to Val’s guest. No one else is allowed to land here at this time.  
Once it stops at the bottom and the doors slide open, a pureblood Sith steps out from the entrance, followed by a few imperial soldiers. They glance around the area, until the man has found who he’s looking for and approaches the group.

Arkous has his brown hair pulled back and wears only a few ornamental facial pieces, in onyx and gold colors. He is dressed in a set of red and white robes with a tall collar, spiky metal shoulder pads and a couple of imperial symbols here and there.  
Lana tilts her head closer to Val.  
“You see the symbols? I did say he could be somewhat vain”, she whispers. “Don’t let that fool you.”

Val glances at her skeptically, before rolling her eyes.  
“Yes, thank you, I know an obvious political ploy when I see it.  
Reminds me a bit of Zal, actually.”

“Heh. I don’t think she wears them to gain favors from anyone. And I also believe she only has one, not five.”

When Arkous approaches, he has a bright smile on his face, seeming thoroughly pleased. He stops a few meters away, puts a hand to his chest and bows deeply.  
“Ah, the most wise and noble Darth Imperius. It is truly an honor to finally meet you, my lord.”

The whole display is rather theatrical, including the tone of his voice, which is something they had all expected. Val attempts to put on a charming smile, as much as she’s capable. There’s still quite an audience watching them, and she wants to appear cordial. They have quite a lot of room, due to the guards, which means they’re very much in the center of attention.  
All of this was partially based on advice from Lana, even if Val made most of the decisions herself. After having spent a few years among several important Sith, she has endured enough peculiar scenarios to realize what receives and deserves recognition.

She takes a step forward and offers her hand.  
“An honor, you say? Didn’t know my Sphere mattered that much.”

When their fingers are joined together, Arkous also uses his other hand to embrace hers from both sides, enveloping it completely, albeit in a gentle fashion.  
“My lord, please. It is the dream of every Sith to one day receive an audience with any member of the Dark Council, no matter the Sphere. I am content with my success so far, yet I am no different in this mindset.”

Val is not as foolish as to believe that everyone views her in the same light. Many may admire her, especially the aliens who are struggling, but there’s still a big chunk of the Sith Order that grumble about her rise, or those of Kharrid and Zal’riva. She is very intent on proving to them that she’s here to stay.  
“If you say so.” She gestures for him to follow her as they return to her comrades, but she still directs her eyes towards him.  
“So, what have you heard of me?”

He raises an amused and inquisitive eyebrow.  
“Heard? I believe many of us have done much more than that, regarding your activities.”

“Oh?”

“Not only are you quickly becoming one of the most prominent members of the Dark Council at this time, as the whole HoloNet speaks of you, but your rise has almost become legendary.  
I am only saddened that I did not receive the chance to witness the Kaggath on Corellia myself! I had to settle for the holovids instead, which were still spectacular.”

She hadn’t considered it at the time, but it is probably true that those events were broadcasted. She can’t imagine how that must’ve been, compared to actually being there.  
“It was quite a fight, though I’m not completely satisfied with the results.”

“No?”, he asks, with his voice exhibiting mild surprise.

“I never actually wanted the Kaggath, or the whole rivalry to begin with. Sadly, Thanaton was a stubborn and foolish old man. He never saw what we could’ve done together.”

The pureblood lifts a hand to rub his chin, pondering the viewpoint for a moment.  
“Hmm, I suppose that is an unfortunate reality, yes. In the end, he was a fool to have believed himself more powerful than he truly was. His death was inevitable and deserved.”

“An…interesting argument, though I wonder about the necessity myself. For now, I do not regret gaining this position.”

“Nor should you. You are more suited to it than he ever was.”

Overt praise, to be sure, but she’ll take it.  
Eventually, Val gestures at the people in front of them.  
“Let me introduce my companions. This is my assistant, Ensign Francine Daimort and my bodyguard, Khem Val.”

Khem merely grunts, not showing either deference or interest. Francine, on the other hand, bows her head politely.  
“It is a pleasure to stand in your presence, my lord.”

“And, lastly, this is Lana Beniko, a Sith from your own Sphere and advisor to-…well, Darth Marr, for the time being.”

Arkous briefly eyes the first two, but he's quickly drawn to Lana instead.  
“Ah, yes, advisor Beniko. I know of your position here on Dromund Kaas. You are one of the few Sith that actually accepts a stationary role on the capital, while most prefer to seek combat and glory.”

Lana mimics Fran’s previous pose, to show her deference to a superior as well.  
“Yes, my lord. I prefer it this way, so that I can be of use to the Empire.”

“And I respect that choice. What you and much of the personnel do here is critical to the overall war effort.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be appreciated.”

Now that the introductions have been made for the one he’s closest to, he looks towards the dashade.  
“Naturally, I know of your bodyguard as well. Khem Val’s identity and his reputation has flourished through the Empire, after all the fighting he has done by your side. His intrinsic Force resistance is quite a concern to some.”

Khem bares his fangs and snorts derisively.  
“And you should be afraid, little Sith”, he says, with his words being translated through a device on his body. This makes Valcera smirk.

Arkous clears his throat awkwardly and shifts instead towards the other human.  
“Ensign Daimort, was it? I don’t believe I have encountered you anywhere.”

Francine displays a polite smile and a brief shake of her head.  
“I wouldn’t expect it either. I am simply an employee and no one important.”

Perhaps it wasn’t her intention, but Val furrows her brow at this statement.  
“Excuse me? That’s nonsense.  
She is my assistant, and in this role, she deals with some pretty critical administrative tasks. Without her, our entire operation wouldn’t go as smoothly as it does. My Sphere would break without her.”

The Ensign looks a bit embarrassed as she diverts her eyes and scratches the back of her neck.  
“Heh. My lord, that’s…gratifying, but an overstatement.”

“Absolutely not. I always speak the truth!”

Suddenly, Arkous seems a lot more interested than he did before.  
“Is that so? It is impressive to hear of a simple administrative officer receiving such praise from a Sith – a Dark Councilor no less – so you must be very capable.”

“I uh, try my best”, Francine admits. “On that note, I have made reservations for you at the top level of the Starfire restaurant, in Terlo City, per Darth Imperius’ instructions.”

With a curios tilts of his head, Arkous looks towards Val again.  
“Oh? I wasn’t aware we’d be sharing a meal.”

Val shrugs casually.  
“It felt appropriate. I have questions for you, but nothing I can’t pose while we eat.”

“A splendid point!”

Now that they begin to walk away, moving into the city once more, they notice how the crowd has grown even larger, as many want to see the Sith and what they’re doing. In the sky, they spot HoloNet drones flying around, likely recording the entire event, which was sort of the point as well. Everyone will get to see what happens.  
To keep the people at bay, Khem and the soldiers extend their reach to the sides and make sure no one comes too close.

“You know”, Val starts, ”I have to admit that I’m not fully aware of everything that has transpired in your career. I have heard of some accomplishments and the fact that you are a potential candidate for the Dark Council hasn’t escaped me either.”

Arkous places his arms behind him again, keeping his eyes on the road.  
“Ah, the nomination is nothing but a rumor so far. Naturally, I would be honored if someone were to offer me the opportunity, but I will gracefully accept whoever is most suitable to the position.”

Yeah, he definitely wants it. To Val, it’s unmistakable how he’s merely trying to play humble.  
“Is that why you haven’t tried to make sweeping claims or spread the news of your success?”

“I suppose that is partially true, yes. I don’t seek glory, but victory. There is a fine line between them, but they often mean different things, depending on the circumstances and methods.  
My tactics and strategies have secured me victories over the Republic and even some stray Sith, who believed they could best me. I could name some of my fallen rivals, but they likely do not matter anymore.”

Whether they do or not, he does still sound fairly proud. Val may need to hamper some of it.  
“I should mention that killing other Sith does not impress me, Arkous. I believe that the Empire must remain unified and grow stronger together.”

“Oh, of course, I agree. I should have explained that I never started any of those fights, but merely responded to them. Just like between you and Thanaton, I had no choice but to kill them.”  
It sounds sort of like an excuse, but he doesn’t falter when he offers it.  
“A regrettable end, but such is the nature of Sith. Many do not easily give in, for the belief that they will somehow lose their pride. If only pride was not such a deeply ingrained ideal among our people, we might have made some smarter decisions throughout our history.”

“Indeed”, she says, but wonders how much of what he claims is actually genuine.  
Once they get closer to the shuttle that they’re going to use to leave the city, she figures it might be wise to mention another angle.  
“I already know that you have some support among certain members of the Council, although I obviously can’t mention who. However, I remain unsure whether I wish to do the same. I will admit that I see you as one of the more intriguing choices, but I don’t know if we can trust you.”

He slows down somewhat, studying her expression with interest.  
“Hmm. Have I done something specific to earn your distrust, my lord?”

“Not specifically, but this is merely a precaution, as one might expect between Sith.”

“Reasonable, to a certain degree. That said, are you not trying to build a renewed Empire, with different standards and opinions?”

“I am, yes, but there are still several caveats which makes me waver.  
Not only have I been betrayed on a few occasions in the past, but the last time we gave someone so much power, this man ran off and created his own nation, causing a lot of damage and destruction as he departed.”

This brings a small smile to Arkous’ lips and he lowers his eyes to the ground.  
“Ah, of course. You’re worried this might happen again.”

“I hope that is a given.”

“Well, let me reassure you that I have no interest in power plays. If you don’t believe me, look at my record and career. I have done everything for the Empire and its success, not my own gain.”

Val stops right outside the doors of the shuttle and folds her arms. The cameras, lights and many eyes of the citizens are still upon them, even if most cannot fully hear what they speak of.  
“This is easy to say, but more difficult to perform. Malgus came to me, asking for approval, and offered a lot of flowery language. I don’t want to repeat mistakes.”

Arkous nods slowly and disappears into his thoughts for a few moments, trying to decide upon a response. After he’s done, he redirects his attention to her.  
“Then let me prove my sincerity.”

“How?”

“If I’m not mistaken, there is still quite a lot of chaos around here and stabilizing the situation has been difficult. I would be willing to help.  
I haven’t had the chance to return here for several months, as Darth Marr demanded that my command abilities were used at the front, but now that I am free, I can offer those skills to you instead.  
It must be the difficult being the only Dark Councilor here on Dromund Kaas and the nearby systems, especially as an alien. With another Darth at your side, that could go much smoother.”

Val frowns and points her finger at him.  
“Excuse me? I hope that isn’t an indication that you underestimate me.”

He raises his hands defensively.  
“Oh, not at all! I meant no offense, my lord. I am merely saying that some people likely view you unfairly, but with me at your side, we could expedite the process.  
Naturally, I would not oppose your edicts or rules. You are the Dark Councilor and I am your humble servant.”

He is a bit deceptive and difficult to read, but perhaps he has a point. It could be useful to have him close, especially if she can send people to watch him.  
Val stretches her hand out once more, knowing how public it remains.  
“Very well, Darth Arkous, I accept your offer. Do this right and maybe you will end up gaining my support after all.”

Arkous smiles and takes the hand into his.  
“Your wisdom continues to be impressive, my lord. I promise I shall not squander this chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Arkous tries a bit too hard, but that's kind of the point too. He wants to charm Valcera, even if she doesn't fully believe him._


	32. Strength in broken chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is sort of a continuation of an event from "The precipice of division". If you haven't read that story, it might be confusing._

Travelling around the galaxy can drain quite a bit of time and resources, especially when one is on long journeys. If one goes through areas that don’t have regular appearances of stations that offer shops or ways to refuel, such ships may have to reconsider the road ahead and make potential detours to acquire the necessary means of survival. A lot of sectors can be rather unfriendly too, which is why it’s advantageous to always keep an eye open.

For this purpose, the Shielded Path has stopped by one such station, somewhere in neutral space. Most of their destinations have had some kind of connection to their mission, with different levels of importance, but this one can’t really be called ‘critical’ in any way. Picking up supplies is of course quite useful, and they wouldn’t survive without these items, but this particular stop is more of a misstep on their part. Ktila simply forgot that they didn’t have enough provisions in the last area they went to.

For the time being, it is Kira and Ktila who take care of the shopping, while Scourge and T7-O1 guard the ship. They walk between stores and acquire what they need, from food and drinks to hygienic products and extra clothes. As both of them push separate carts, they can split themselves off somewhat, to focus on different sides of all the aisles in here.  
They don’t go all too far from one another, though. It’s partially to make sure they can protect each other, but also because Ktila is uncertain what Kira might go for.

Just like she suspected, when they pass by a few shelves with sodas, Kira grabs a bunch of them and start putting them down in her cart. The chiss sighs and looks at her skeptically.  
“Those aren’t good for you, you know.”

Kira glances in her companion’s direction and shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Good for my soul.”

“That’s not how it works and there are much more nutritious alternatives, if you want something sweet.”

“Look, they’re tasty and they make me happy. Isn’t that enough?”

“They might do, but your teeth will probably disagree.”

Kira rolls her eyes.  
“I’ve got a brush.”

“I hope you don’t come to regret that.”

Seeing no use in arguing about it further, Ktila allows the drinks to remain, so that they can continue their stroll. After obtaining some soaps and gels, they end up in area with perfumes and deodorants, which makes the human stop once more.  
“Hey, shouldn’t we grab some of these too?”

Ktila views one of the objects that Kira picks up and raises her eyebrow questioningly.  
“Why would we? We don’t need that.”

“What, you can’t think of a single situation where perfumes may come in handy?”

“I can, but we are not out here to impress anyone, which makes them pretty unnecessary.”

Kira tilts her head sideways and displays a knowing smile.  
“Not even for your girlfriend?”

Ktila merely shakes her head.  
“She doesn’t care about such things.”

“Not true. I know you’ve used some before, so don’t even try it.  
Besides, it’s not just about impressing, but to provoke certain feelings or reactions. They can be pretty useful when setting the mood. I could tell you what Jaesa and Vette likes, for example, and why they do, which is why I tend to buy a few every now and then.”

“Maybe another time. Right now, we just have to pick up necessities.”

Kira is about to drop the subject for now, but one of the bottles nearby gets her attention. It has a rather boastful advertisement on it.  
“Hey, what’s this? ‘So powerful that it can charm the Force’? They really like to overdo it sometimes, huh?”  
She sprays just a little bit of it on her hand and gives it a sniff. Shortly after, she winces and has to push her hand away, while she grimaces.  
“Shit! Ouch, that’s sharp. My eyes are watering. I think even Scourge could sense that one.”

“Kira, please. Don’t make fun of him.”

“He’s not even here!”

Eventually, the duo is done grabbing all the items they need and head towards the checkout area, in order to pay for the goods. Along the way, Kira lets her eyes casually stroll across the nearby shelves, which they won’t be taking anything from anyhow, letting her mind wander somewhat. For a second, they are drawn towards the exit and she spots a person standing there, which she doesn’t really think about at first. It isn’t until her mind registers exactly what it saw, that she does a double take and she has to stop walking immediately.

Standing by the doors is a familiar woman, who looks around searchingly and fidgets nervously with the sleeve of her brown jacket. She’s clearly uncertain, but she acts as if she knows that something is in here, something she desperately wants to locate. Or perhaps, more accurately, someone.  
It’s been a while since Kira has seen those vibrant green eyes, the white facial tattoos on the violet skin, or the fairly large maroon and white montrals.

Ktila senses that her companion grows somewhat tense and when she glances over her shoulder, she notices how Kira isn’t following her anymore, which is why she stops.  
“Kira?”

Kira simply stands there and stares at the togruta by the doors. It takes a few seconds for her to speak.  
“…Baeleki?”

This same woman hears the tone of her voice and quickly turns to face her. Baeleki’s eyes widen and her lekku twitch around delightfully, as she smiles.  
“Kira! There you are.”  
The human doesn’t even know how to react at first, certainly not when Baeleki runs up to her and wraps arms around her, in order to put her in a warm embrace. Not exactly what she had expected to experience today.  
“I’ve missed you.”

Ktila appears equally surprised by this development and she raises a hand to scratch the back of her head.  
“Well, erm…this is interesting.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Kira does return the hug at least slightly and pats the other woman’s back gently. She still feels very unsure, though, of course.  
“How did you-…wait, are you alone?”

Baeleki takes a step back and then nods curtly.  
“Yes, of course”, she says, without any concern in her voice.

Kira and Ktila look at each other, before they sigh simultaneously.  
“We need to talk about this”, Kira insists.

“Let’s pay for our goods first, shall we?”, Ktila suggests.

After they’re done and have put everything in bags, they carry these things out of the shop and through the corridors of the station. Seeing as how Baeleki just appeared out of nowhere, they let her carry two of them.  
Instead of walking straight back to the ship, they choose to find an empty corner somewhere along the road and stop in an alley.

While Ktila checks the vicinity for cameras or other potential recording devices, Kira has turned her entire focus towards the togruta.  
“What are you doing here, Baeleki? I thought we left you in the Jedi enclave back on Halcyon.”

Halcyon is one of the colony worlds of the Republic, and one that is generally pretty peaceful. The Jedi built a small enclave there many years ago and it has occasionally been in use for some of their Knights to get some peace or for students to be trained without much interference.  
Baeleki hesitates, running a hand slowly over a lek, with her eyes turned to the floor.  
“You did, but…I decided to leave.”

“Wait, just like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” She gathers some courage and views Kira’s eyes. “Is that…bad?”

Kira folds her arms, taking a deep breath as she considers how to approach her response.  
“Well, I mean, guess it depends. But we left you there because we hoped they could keep you safe, to help you with your gifts.”

Baeleki turns distant for a moment, running this thought through her mind, before she sighs.  
“They tried to. The masters at the enclave have done their best to teach me about the Force and I’m thankful for their guidance, but…I dunno. I don’t feel right with them.”

This isn’t inherently surprising, and not just due to Baeleki being much older than normal Jedi initiates or whatever. She’s a Child of the Emperor, one who has or had the essence of a powerful Sith inside of her. It’s not entirely shocking to consider how she might feel weird sitting around Jedi all day. There must be some kind of subconscious processes that somehow try to turn her away from them. Kira had kinda hoped this would be solved with the Jedi Masters’ wisdom, though.

“Well, I wanna help you, of course”, Kira tells her, “but I’m not sure running away like this is the best way to go about it.”

Now that she’s done with checking the perimeter, Ktila approaches them. She has overheard the conversation so far.  
“How did you even come here, Baeleki? How did you find us?”

Baeleki opens her mouth for a moment, but she has to stop herself when she realizes that it can’t just be spoken out loud without a proper explanation. She furrows her brow and bites her lower lip for a second or two, before she tries again.  
“I suppose I just kind of…felt Kira, somehow.”

“Felt her?”

“Yeah. Through the Force, perhaps? I dunno. I was very confused by it all, but that’s the only way I can describe it. I came to the realization that I needed to leave, and I had find her. My mind just knew that this was the place.”

This explanation makes Kira a little bit nervous, of course, as she wonders just how deeply the Emperor’s essence has connected them. Or is this maybe just the influence of the Force, after all? That would be more comforting, but not necessarily true.  
“Okay, but how’d you get to this station?”

“I took an airspeeder from the enclave, which I flew to the closest spaceport. From there, I found a ship that was going in a similar direction and I paid them to drop me off.”

“Hold on. You stole a speeder from the Jedi?”

Baeleki clears her throat, her lekku twisting around a bit awkwardly, perhaps in embarrassment.  
“Well…I mean, technically, yes. But I didn’t take the speeder away! I left it at the port, so they could easily find it again.”

Kira folds her arms and views the togruta skeptically.  
“Pretty sure that’s still not okay, though.”

Baeleki lowers her gaze to the floor in shame and raises her hand to scratch her other arm.  
“I know. I’m sorry.  
I just…I felt like I had to find you, no matter what. I wanted to be close to you again and I couldn’t let anything get in my way.”

“Yeah, I get it, but you have to let some limits prevent you from doing certain things. I get impulsive too, but I don’t allow it to control me.”

“I know that, but…” She exhales and closes her eyes. “It didn’t feel right living in the enclave and being around those Jedi. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong. They were nice to me and they tried their best to understand, but they can’t fully do so.”  
After a couple of silent seconds, she stares at Kira once more.  
“They don’t make me feel safe, not like when I was around you. After my first outbreak, I never thought there was anything that could calm me down, but you did. I had to leave and find you, to get that sensation once more. This is why I let the Force guide me.”  
She lifts her hand and places it gingerly on Kira’s arm.  
“You and I are the same, Kira, have the same essence in us and tackle the same problems. The Jedi at the enclave can help me meditate and learn about the Force, but they can’t know what it’s like to deal with all the…dreams and whispers. Not like you can.”

Baeleki is opening herself up and Kira isn’t sure if the togruta can really sense it, but she’s extending her reach towards Kira, offering a mental plea. It’s hard to ignore.  
“Well…that may be true, but why are you bringing this up now? Are you saying that you wanna come with us?”

There’s further hesitation on Baeleki’s face, not just due to the question, but because of the skeptical nature behind it.  
“Yes, I think so. Is that wrong?”

Kira sighs and raises her hand to rub the bridge of her nose. She’s trying to control her own worries.  
“I’m not sure.”

As Kira isn’t doing much to clarify the situation, Ktila steps in to offer some help.  
“What Kira means is that we’re not part of the Jedi Order anymore, which might create some problems for you.”

Baeleki widens her eyes in surprise.  
“Wait, really? You left the Jedi?”

“Uh, not sure that’s what I’d call it”, says Kira. “But, yeah, sort of. We’re on a temporary break, anyway. We have a specific mission to complete and the Jedi disagree.”

“Okay, but why did you feel the need to leave then? What’s it about?”

Kira looks very reluctant about giving an answer and she turns to Ktila for wisdom. The chiss nods at her.  
“You should tell her. This is, after all, something important for you both.”

It appears Kira isn’t as confident, due to the shrug she offers them, but she won’t let that stop her.  
“Okay, if you say so.  
Baeleki, we’re currently trying to go after our…uh, ‘father’. Ktila and I are both struggling with his influence and he’s too dangerous to keep around. We want to do everything we can to hunt him down and end his threat forever.”

Baeleki listens intently, running a hand over her lips as she considers the angle.  
“I see. I didn’t realize you would do something so drastic, but I can see the necessity. That said, is this really wise?”  
She lowers her voice and takes a step closer to her ‘sister’.  
“If the whispers I’ve received in the past are true, it seems like he’s very dangerous. Are either of you ready to face something so powerful? His strength must be…immense.”

Ktila nods sharply.  
“We know, but it doesn’t matter. We’re not doing this because we want to; we simply have to oppose him. If we don’t, he will roam freely and destroy everything in his path. We can’t accept that.”

Her words are confident and sincere, which Baeleki appreciates, but she still turns to Kira for more answers.  
“Is this what you believe as well?”

“I do”, Kira admits. “I wanna be rid of all the remnants of…that man. He has ruined enough people and places during his life. It’s time to end him.”

Baeleki nods slowly after they’ve both responded in a similar fashion.  
“I can see and hear how serious this is, both in your words and the situation. I’m not sure that I can help, but I want to try.”

Kira arches her brow skeptically.  
“Help? How?”

“I don’t know. I have to be able to do something, though, right? I have all these powers, but I don’t know what to do with them.  
I…I still want to learn how to be a Jedi, how to fight like you do, but I can’t do that in the enclave. Perhaps, if it’s not too much to ask, you could teach me?”

That startles Kira and she actually a step back, raising her hands cautiously.  
“Whoa. Uh, you’re asking me to train you?”

“Yes, unless you’re against it. You know how to fight, right? And you are-…were a Jedi Knight, not just an initiate.”

Kira’s gaze drifts down and she lifts her hand to stroke some hair behind her ear, in a slightly nervous move.  
“I mean, yeah, sure, but…I dunno, I’m not really the teacher type. You should probably try someone else.”

“I already have, remember? It didn’t work.  
I want to train with someone I trust, someone I feel comfortable around. You are at the top of my list.”

“Uh, but…like, what about Ktila? You like her too, don’t you? She’s a much better trainer than me.”

In response, Ktila smiles and folds her arms, looking fairly amused.  
“And why can’t you do it?”

“Because…I’m not a Jedi Master!”

“Nor am I anymore.”

Kira groans and rolls her eyes.  
“Oh c’mon, don’t gimme that nonsense. You’re at that level!”

“With just a bit more discipline, you could technically be too, you know.”

“But you’re the better teacher here! You even taught me for a while.”

Ktila shakes her head.  
“Only a little. Master Kiwiiks did much for you than I ever did. I simply provided some small practical lessons.”

Every angle she tries seems to fail and she doesn’t have a lot to say that Ktila can’t just reflect back at her. Kira sighs and runs a frustrated hand over her face.  
“I don’t like this. This isn’t right.”

With a saddened expression, Baeleki decides to resume their previous closeness, hoping to display just how much this means to her.  
“Please, Kira? Perhaps Ktila is a good option, but you are the one I trust. I feel safe around you, like I don’t have to be scared of all the things inside me. This isn’t just about the Force, but about trying to control all of it. His influence continues to haunt me and despite all the offers of help from the Jedi, it hasn’t stopped anything.”  
She diverts her eyes and frowns, as she thinks back to past events.  
“I get frustrated with them sometimes, because they just tell me to keep going, on and on. Nothing ever changes, and I feel like they underestimate how urgent it is.”

Well, Kira certainly can’t deny the relatable sensation in this dilemma.  
“Yeah, I understand. They’ve said similar things to me in the past. I…might actually have a few tricks to help you focus.”

Hearing this makes Baeleki excited and she nods eagerly.  
“See? You know what it’s like. This is why I want to be your student.”

Kira crosses her arms once more and inhales through her nose. She’s not just unsure about the outcome of this scenario, but possibly somewhat afraid as well.  
Her hesitation creates some sympathy in Ktila, who smiles and starts to caress her shoulder.  
“Don’t worry, Kira. You can do it.”

“…you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. I believe in you. You may not be a typical Jedi, but you’re smart, creative, brave and passionate. I know how much you love the Order and you still want to help them. This is your chance to pass on the lessons they taught you.”

Kira views her friend and former master. She both sees and feels that Ktila is being genuine, which she shouldn’t have doubted in the first place. Ktila wouldn’t lie about this.  
“Some might say those traits aren’t appropriate for a Jedi, though.”

“Maybe, but they’d be wrong. I’ve seen what you can do and you’re great at it.  
Besides, when you joined me, I was a fresh Jedi Knight, remember? We both grew rather quickly, side by side, learning to be more than what we appear as. There shouldn’t be much difference between us and if I can teach someone, so can you.  
If you ever need my help with anything, I’ll be there for you.”

The mental defenses and the sometimes overwhelming sensation of doubt are slowly withering away, making Kira open up to the possibilities. She glances between both of the other women, seeing their reactions and absorbing their emitted emotions. Ktila views her with pride, while Baeleki smiles, perhaps in a slightly expectant fashion. This is clearly what the togruta wants, what she hopes will be fulfilled. It would be wrong to deny her now.

Kira sighs heavily and her shoulders slump in defeat.  
“Alright, fine. I…I guess I’ll take you in.”

Baeleki’s expression changes into a bright grin and she quickly moves up to Kira, to embrace her tightly.  
“Yes! Thank you!”

Kira rolls her eyes and gently pats Baeleki's back. She will admit that these hugs are rather nice.  
“I’m not much of a Jedi anymore, but…the thought of having a padawan is pretty cool.”

Baeleki’s joy soars and she nuzzles into Kira’s shoulder.  
“I can call you ‘master’, if you want.”

“…please don’t. Just Kira is fine.”

Ktila tilts her head amusedly and smirks.  
“After all those months you talked to me that way, you should get to endure it too.”

“No thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So yeah, a padawan! Sort of. This isn't officially sanctioned by the Jedi Order, of course._   
>  _If you want to see a picture of Baeleki, I actually posted a screenshot earlier[on my blog.](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/secondary-swtor-character-pics.html)_   
> 


	33. The dance of fractured honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Content warning, I guess: This chapter contains more descriptions of violence, blood and internal damage than usual, albeit not necessarily more graphic. Also, death._

To be an outside party in the war between the Empire and Republic, who chooses to get involved anyway, can be tricky. While there are those who have a general interest in battle and fighting, from mercenaries and warriors to droid factions and criminal syndicates, they’re not always welcomed with open arms. There’s a certain doubt and tension resting in between the relationship of these outsiders and the main factions, which can’t be denied. The mandalorians can certainly attest to that, in their partnership with the Empire. Sometimes, it gets to the point where such tension erupts.

Within the bridge of the Blood Fist, it’s rare for things to get hectic. Sure, its crew involve themselves with a lot of dangerous situations and unpredictable scenarios, but the ship itself is hardly ever included in that process. Jovana and her companions usually prefer to take care of their enemies on their own, typically on foot. The mandalorian bounty hunter isn’t a fan of battles among the stars and prefers to shoot her targets face to face. Her crew is on the same page.

At this time, however, they are located in space, orbiting a world where clan Lok and a few other mandalorian groups can be found on the surface. Some of the crew had been down there earlier, but as they’re getting ready to leave in a few hours, they’re currently drifting around. Some are acquiring information for future targets from the Empire or third parties, others are training, polishing their gear or otherwise keeping themselves busy. Everyone is focused on the next stage of their erratic schedule. Well…almost everyone.

The bridge is currently empty, except for one person – Mako. She’s slouching in one of the chairs, her legs bent and resting against the control panel in front of her. In her hand, she holds a datapad, which she seems very intrigued by. She’s smiling to herself and occasionally bites at her nails while reading the mails she receives. Every now and then, she starts to giggle, before she quickly types back a message of her own.

The one she’s chatting with is none other than Raina Temple, who’s currently very far from her position, but their close connection to the HoloNet and comm buoys in space, makes this possible.  
The purpose of the messages isn’t related to anything important, unless one can call Mako’s personal life ‘critical’. The two go back and forth a lot, trying to tease or prod each other.  
Mako has flirted with other young men and women in the past, but with Raina, it’s much vaguer. In fact, on the agent’s part, it’s even more ambiguous, but Mako finds it exciting anyway. Sometimes, she doesn’t know what she’s doing with this, whether it’s smart to get involved or not, but Raina is very fun to be around and she’s nice too.

“> Hey, maybe we could meet up again soon? Without our bosses in the way”, she types.

Raina responds rather swiftly.  
“> Hmm. Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

“> Ever tried out the nightlife in some of the city-states on Khalendur? They’ve got a lot of fun casinos and gaming rooms.”

“> Gambling? Not sure that’s my thing.”

“> Well, I was thinking we could do something much more exciting with one of those places, more suited to our talents.”

“> …I’m not going to rob a casino with you, Mako.”

Mako starts to smirk.  
“> Who said anything about robbing? We’ll just try out their network security, see if they’ve protected it against slicers at our level.”

“> This sounds an awful lot like a heist.”

“> How would you know? You’ve never done it before.”

“> I’ve read holonovels.”

The expression on the young slicer’s face grows and she rolls her eyes.  
“> C’mon, it’ll be fun! You’re not afraid of a lil' danger, are you? If you are, you can lean on me, Temple. I’m used to risks.”

“> Are you trying to impress me?”

“> Maybe. Is it working?”

“> I’ll let you know when I do.”

Mako holds a hand over her mouth as she snickers, feeling this is quite enjoyable. If Jovana finds out what she’s doing, the mandalorian might begin to question her choice, but she’s not required to share all the details of her life. For now, she’s keeping it to herself.  
While she considers what to type next, she twitches in surprise as she hears how the ship’s comm system emits a sound and displays a blinking light. They’re receiving an incoming call. She swiftly checks the source and notices it’s from an unknown frequency. This does happen occasionally, usually from Cierah’s ship. Did Raina already want to talk to her about this? That was quick.

Unfortunately, when she accepts the call, she soon realizes how foolish it is. The hologram that appears above the small projector in here is not at all the woman she had hoped for, but someone that she can clearly identify as a Sith. She gasps and then immediately puts it on hold.  
She groans to herself and buries her face in both hands. She really screwed up now.  
“…well, shit.” She quickly decides to utilize the intercom instead. “Uh, boss?”

It takes a couple of seconds before the mandalorian responds.  
“Yeah?”

“You busy?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Well, take a break from whatever you’re doing, because we just received a pretty fucking important call.”

She hears how Jov sighs.  
“Can it wait?”

“No, I already answered.”

“…wait, what? Mako, you can’t-“

“Listen! It doesn’t matter what I should’ve done, it already happened. Just head to the central holorprojector, alright? You _will_ want to see this.”

As the two women eventually meet each other in the central room of the ship, with the large holorprojector that they’ve received many calls from before, Mako sees how Jov enters in a slightly messy state. She doesn’t wear her full armor and she’s currently trying to attach the jetpack.  
“And here I’m trying to test out new upgrades and everyone wants to get in my face. This is what I get for being too nice”, she grumbles, although clearly loud enough for the slicer to hear. Probably intentional. “Didn’t even reattach my flamethrower yet.”

Mako slowly shakes her head.  
“Look, you won’t wanna miss this. Are you ready?”

It takes a few more seconds until Jov finally fastens the pack behind her and they hear a clicking noise as it becomes fully attached. Afterwards, the hunter rolls her shoulders and briefly assesses her gear.  
“Well, not really, but I guess I don’t have much choice.”  
The slicer redirects the call into this section of the ship and when the hologram resumes its previous appearance, Jov goes from annoyance to surprised tension in less than a second.  
“What the-…Darth Malgus?” She quickly glances at Mako. “Why the fuck did you put ‘im through?”

“I didn’t know it was him!”

A sound can be heard from the Sith that can only be described as a chuckle, although it’s hard to tell with that mask over his mouth.  
“Why so panicked, Vlasic?”, he asks, with overt amusement in his voice. “You sound as if speaking to me makes you nervous.”

Jov instantly begins to frown and folds her arms.  
“Go figure, schutta. I don’t usually hang out with crazy conqueror types.”

“And yet I am fairly certain you and I have spoken in the past.”  
As the two of them converse, a lot of attention is being drawn into this room, which makes the entire crew come to watch, even Skadge. The houk examines Malgus thoughtfully for a moment, before he begins to frown. He then slowly drifts off to the side, behind Jov, remaining in the background for now.  
Malgus gives each of them a look, staying a couple of extra seconds on Skadge, before he directs himself towards Jov again.  
“It has been a little while since our last conversation, hasn’t it? The last one must have been when I gave you a few missions to take care of.”

“Yeah, for the Sith Empire. You know, the place that you betrayed and tried to blow up?”

“Interesting choice of words, albeit mistaken ones. I wish to renew and improve the Empire, not destroy it.”

The mandalorian raises one of her gauntleted hands and rubs the bridge of her nose, hoping to hold back any overwhelming irritation for now. Traces of a headache can already be detected.  
“Tell me why I shouldn’t just hang up on you right now.”

The Sith watches her with interest and puts his hands behind his back.  
“Because I have an offer for you, which I believe you will want to hear.”

“Piss off.”

Malgus tilts his head slightly, a shimmer of curiosity running through his eyes.  
“Why such hostility, Vlasic? Did we not work together so well in the past? I even discarded all your previous actions made against the Empire, such as the death of Tormen. After that, I resumed your contract with the Empire and secured your place among us. Have I not shown how benevolent and cooperative I can be? You should be grateful. This is a new offer from me to you, one where we can do great things for each other once more.”

“Look, the offer I took was for the Sith Empire, not you personally. I’m not your lackey and if you wanna go on some delusional power trip, that’s up to you. Just leave me out of it.”

“It is disappointing to hear you say this, because I honestly believe there is much we can do together. We have a lot in common, you know. Some might say that you and I are the same.”

Jov stops for a moment and stares at him in disbelief, before she leans her head back and laughs mockingly.  
“Go fuck yourself. I’m not a Sith.”

“No, but you and I share many ideals.  
You are a mandalorian, Vlasic, a renowned warrior that thrives on combat. You can traverse the realms of death and destruction better than most. This is something that your people, and you especially, share with the Sith. It is why our alliance functions so well, why we understand each other on so many levels.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left them then, dipshit.”

“I didn’t leave them at all. I am still Sith, but I decided to discard the broken husk that is the old Order and their pathetic Dark Council. I have gone back to the roots of what it is to be Sith, to the Code. I am more Sith than they will ever be.”  
He reaches out with his hand in her direction, looking right into her eyes.  
“You should join me, Vlasic. At my side, you will get the opportunity to truly experience what it is to be mandalorian, to conquer the old Empire and the Republic. Remember the stories of the Mandalorian Wars? That can happen again, but this time, your people will be among the victors, with far more glory.  
You would not even be the first among your kind to do so, as several clans have already come to me.”

His confidence and certainty is kinda annoying, but she knows he has a point towards the end, at least.  
“Yeah, I know that already.”

“Of course you do, because I wanted that particular news to spread, to make you aware.  
I know that you are currently close to your clan’s position, one of the mightiest clans among all the mandalorian people and the origin of your present Mandalore. If you join me now, I promise glory, victory and such prosperous futures that the Sith Empire can never obtain. You will experience the ecstasy of true combat, unlike you have ever done before.  
Your clan leader may be Mandalore, but you are the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt, a respected warrior across the galaxy. Your people recognize your greatness. If you join me, they will follow.”

His speech is very theatrical, although it’s hard to tell whether he’s wrong or not. She’s not sure how her clan would react to it, but in the end, it doesn’t matter.  
“I doubt that. Mand’alor would oppose it.”  
In the corner of her eye, she can see Torian smiling, when she uses the correct pronunciation for their leader’s title.

“I have faith that you can convince him to follow the right path.”

Jov snorts, with only a slight bit of amusement.  
“Yeah, sure, buddy. If you wanna believe that, go ahead, but it’s not gonna happen. Not even clan Cadera and an entire sub-faction that opposed his allegiance to the Sith, could stop him. They fell too.”

Malgus considers this for a moment, before he shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Then we will simply make you into a new Mandalore instead, an opposing one, to defeat him. Once you depose him, all will bow before your might.”

His bold and brutal dismissal of her concerns, and the importance of their leader, makes her frown deepen.  
“You’re a fucking idiot, aren’t you?”

“A fierce statement, but unnecessary.”

“If you think I would betray Mand’alor, my clan leader and the man who made me mandalorian, you don’t know me very well, aruetii.”

Both Torian and Mako begin to smile as they hear it, but Malgus furrows his brow. She thinks that can see his hands clenching too.  
“You’re making a mistake, Vlasic.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you.”

For a few moments, he narrows his eyes slightly as he stares at her, but eventually ceases this act when he sighs and shakes his head.  
“I foresaw this conclusion. It is unfortunate that you choose to be so blind.  
I already figured that this might be the end of our deliberations, when you dealt with Aggrata. He was rather angry, but you were fortunate to have admiral Draconius’ aid.”

Jov briefly widens her eyes. She did give a report to the Empire and Malgus after that incident, but she left out Dreya’s involvement, to instead accept the blame.  
“How the hell did you know that?”

He arches his brow in a fashion that makes him appear very smug.  
“Is it not obvious enough for you? Who do you think gave him access to Dark Honor Guards in the first place?”

Her eyes move around searchingly, trying to recall the event and the questions which arose back then. Dammit, why didn’t she see this before?  
“That…was you?”

“I have been watching your movements for much longer than you think.”

She takes a few sharp steps forward and slams her hands at the edge of the holoprojector. The hologram flickers only for a moment.  
“You fucking asshole! You’re not gonna get away with this.”

“Oh, I will, especially after today. I predicted this outcome, and that you would be so narrow-minded, so I prepared other methods to solve the situation.  
Your allegiance would have been useful…but your death will be just as momentous. Your people will come to understand how foolish it is to defy me.”

Jov glares at him for a few seconds, while she clenches her hands at the frame of the projector. Eventually, she pushes herself away and plants her hands at her hips.  
“You think you scare me, ugly? You don’t stand a chance in a duel against me.”

“I won’t have to.”

Shortly after this is said, he nods at someone else. Jov is confused by why he would do this, wondering if he’s signaling to someone on his ship, or wherever he is, but she soon comes to recognize how foolish that belief is.  
From behind, a large hand suddenly grab ahold of her throat, lifts her up and pushes her against a thick chest. She’s being strangled, and her own hands instinctively rises in an attempt to claw at the fingers, but the grip is simply too sturdy to resist in this manner.

The whole crew turns around in shock as they see what happens.  
“Skadge?!”, Mako shouts. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

The houk only looks at her with an empty and unfazed expression, not caring about what she believes. Torian scowls and charges at them.  
“Let her go!”

Unfortunately, Skadge manages to draw his blaster pistol before the younger mandalorian reaches him.  
“Sit down, pipsqueak”, he says, before he puts two shots through the other man’s chest, making him fall to the ground.

“Torian!”, Mako yells.

She becomes so shocked by it all, that she doesn’t notice when Skadge aims at her instead. One who does is Blizz.  
“Mako! Look out!”, the little jawa shouts, before he tackles her, just barely getting them both out of sight, to hide behind a terminal.

Skadge grunts in annoyance, but figures he’ll have to deal with that later. He tries to check for Gault, but the devaronian has, obviously, already fled. He doesn’t want to get involved with this madness.  
The houk chooses to glance between the two humans in his grasp instead, hearing the choking gasps from Jov and seeing the kneeling Torian clutching his wound, but refusing to fall. Skadge snorts amusedly and then aims the gun at the blonde’s head.  
“You always were pretty annoying, kid. If you’re supposed to be a good warrior, your whole people must really be limp-dicked wimps.”

Luckily, before he pulls the trigger, Jov finally manages to ignite something on her equipment. She hasn’t just been trying to free herself, but actually hoped to find access to a specific button on her armor. Suddenly, the jetpack behind her activates and as her body is aimed towards Skadge, she bursts right into him, shooting them both straight into the bridge in high speed. They continue to fly all the way until they slam into the pilot’s chair and the navigational board, making Skadge drop Jov and they roll away in different directions.

As Jov opens her eyes again, she begins to cough heavily and gasp for air, finally being free of the hard grip of the houk. She clutches her neck and gets to her feet, still being a bit groggy. She quickly backs away and tries her best to steady her body.  
At the same time, Skadge has to shake his head, as he received quite a heavy blow to it, but not enough to take him down. He rises once more and quickly looks for his gun, but can’t spot it anywhere.

“Well, shit. Must’ve dropped it outside”, he comments to himself. He checks the rest of his gear, seeing a vibrodagger and some grenades. He considers utilizing either of them, but then discards that thought.  
“Fuck it. Don’t need ‘em to kill you anyway.”

Jov corrects her hair, wipes away the saliva that had been running out of her mouth and glares at him, still panting.  
“You slimy, cowardly, treacherous little fucker.”

“Bah, don’t talk like you didn’t expect this, Vlasic. This was always how it was gonna end up.”

Well, in some ways, she admits that it’s probably true. She never trusted him fully, but this?  
She glances sideways and then slams the button next to her, closing and locking the bridge door.  
As she’s not wearing any weapons either, she puts up her fists and Skadge recognizes the stance, which is why he lifts his own too. She is dressed in a much sturdier armor than him, but he is as strong and solid as a gundark, so Jov realizes this won’t be an easy fight. Doesn’t matter.

They charge and tackle each other, ending up in a messy fistfight. He manages to get a hit in on her shoulder, but she delivers several punches straight into his stomach, forcing him to back off and lower his arms to block her.  
When his counterattacks arrive, she attempts to do the same, but realizes just how strong he is at that point. His fists are like sledgehammers and if aimed towards some of the weaker sections of her gear, they can cause some pretty devastating damage. She can’t let that continue and eventually, she attempts to dodge instead. His grip is difficult to remove, and she isn’t sure whether he can actually tear off parts of her armor. She’s not going to risk it.

“After all these years together, you betray us now? Why?”

“Pff. What, you thought we were best friends?”

“No, but I gave you a place to stay, a way to work yourself up. I got you out of Belsavis, asshole.”

“Big deal.”

During one of her weaker moments, he manages to tackle her into one of the nearby walls. It does hurt, but once he pulls his hand back in an attempt to crush her against it, she dodges and his fist slams into the metal instead, completely shattering some type of computer panel and creating a massive dent in the framework.  
Jov slips around him and launches into his back, kneeing him to begin with, before she jabs a few times. He practically growls as he attempts to swirl around and swipes at her wildly. She evades these strikes with ease, before delivering a few heavy hits to his head, which he absorbs and then fiercely pushes her away.

“I’m tired of being bossed around by the likes of you!”, he exclaims. “Maybe there were good days, but all the fun stuff is runnin’ dry.  
All you fucking talk about is your mandalorian honor and hunts. What about the real fights, huh?! What about the fat pay, building an empire of yer own? You’ve got no ambition, Vlasic!”

Skadge pulls back his fist for another heavy blow, but due to how fast she is, it doesn’t even get close. She avoids and lets him collide with the other wall. She kicks him in the back, but when she tries a second time, he manages to turn and parry it. He grabs her foot in the air and then pulls her in. She gets flung towards him, shortly before he hits her straight in the face. When she gets free, she has no choice but to retreat, as the damage caused is so fierce that her head is practically pulsating afterwards.

“I don’t need that shit, as what I have is more important – principles, ideals, history. I belong somewhere now.”

Skadge grimaces in response.  
“Ugh, listen to yourself! Is that really what a woman of power would say? Pathetic!”

He quickly relocates and tears off another panel from the wall, something his strength is more than enough to succeed with. Warning lamps go off everywhere, but he doesn’t care. He throws the piece of metal right at her, before he roars and rushes her position. Fortunately, his distraction fails and when he comes within range, she gets out of the way, letting him crash into the wall once more. He really is fairly clumsy in a fight, but maybe he doesn’t need to be agile – he gets one hit in and he can cause a lot of havoc.

She continues her routine of trying to ambush him afterwards, kicking and thrashing, but the big guy just won’t go down. He’s like a machine, but fueled by anger, which seems to get worse every time she strikes him. Or maybe that’s just her increasing fatigue playing tricks on her.  
This time, when she attempts to weaken him, he grabs her arm and gets the opportunity to return the favor a few times. Only a kick to his crotch releases her from his hold.

While he recovers, he decides to speak once more.  
“That Malgus fella finally gave me an offer and it seemed like a good deal to me. Better than sitting ‘round here, doing fuck all.”

“What fucking deal?”

“Not only is that guy doing something fun, but I’d be getting my own warband. It’d give me a chance to create a pirate brigade, like the good old days.”

Jov snorts derisively.  
“What, and be his puppet?”

He shrugs in return.  
“You know how this goes, Vlasic. I start small and then build myself up enough to smash the asshole at the top. Works every time.”

“Doubt Malgus would’ve fallen for it.”

“He’d have no choice.  
We could’ve done it together, ya know. Me as the muscle, you as Mandalore.” He clenches his fist in front of him. “We’d make the galaxy tremble, while we blow up every lousy world in our way.  
But no, you need to stick to your useless ‘beliefs’. This is why I don’t usually work with the mando types or any other morons who think like you do. They’re useless for business.”

Their duel continues after this, clashing in the middle, with blow after blow being exchanged. He seems to be making some progress against her, but in general terms, she’s slowly wearing him down. She’s too fast and if he doesn’t do something drastic, victory will be hers eventually. It was inevitable.  
To have a chance, Skadge realizes that he must lower her guard somehow, make her open herself up. That usually works.

“If you’d only listened to me and not all of the losers on this ship.”

Jov spits on the ground.  
“What, my friends, you mean? Or is that word not in your vocabulary?”

“Is that what you call ‘em? The little slicer twerp, the scavenging gnat, the useless conman and the wimpy kid – that’s your ‘friends’? Pitiful.  
Or maybe this is about your precious lil’ agent, huh?”

He sees how she clenches her fists this time, her frown deepening.  
“Leave her out of this, Skadge.”

He shakes his head in light disgust.  
“Can’t believe you of all people would fall for a fascist. Guess you must have some kind of fetish for whores like her, or somethin’.”

That seems to succeed and the mandalorian sneers.  
“Fuck you!”

She charges him, which is exactly what he wants to happen. Her attacks turn from pretty deliberate and accurate, to being purely fueled by fury and retribution, wanting to shut him up. They are difficult to deal with, but Skadge does his best, trying to endure as many as he can while he looks for a gap. It does take a few moments, but when he finally finds it, he grabs onto her arms. He tries to twist them enough to break one of them, which should weaken her severely, but she gets her feet up and starts kicking, which makes it difficult.

Seeing as how this will take too long and her focus is on his lower sections, Skadge growls and tries another angle. He tilts himself back and then thrusts forward, headbutting her square in the face. His body and fists are very robust, but his skull is even worse. As it collides with her, Jov can feel how her nose breaks, how her head vibrates, and her own skull emits the sensation that it’s about to crack, even if it doesn’t go quite that far.

Jov stumbles backwards, falling into a nearby wall and this time, he does not wait. He really lays into her, hammering his fists into every weak spot in her armor that he has located thus far, trying to drain all of her strength. Despite desperately attempting to defend herself, a few heavy strikes reach her face too and she feels how the agony surges across every region, how her chances of winning this fight are slipping away.

When he feels that she has had enough, to the extent where she has difficulties standing up, he takes a step back to give himself a chance to breathe. After a couple of seconds, he grabs onto her left arm and holds it up. He slowly begins to twist it, but doesn’t break it. He simply wants to cause her pain and by the groan she realizes past her bloodied mouth, he succeeds.  
He pushes his face very close to her, speaking with a smug voice.

“You see the difference between you and me, Vlasic? I’ve got nothing holdin’ me back, nothing to be stupid about. That’s why you don’t stand a chance against me. That’s why you break so fucking easily.”

Instead of shattering her arm, however, he realizes that he enjoys seeing her bleed. He decides to grab the vibrodagger from his belt and shoves it straight into a gap in her armor, around the abdomen, as it cannot protect her completely.  
Jov’s eyes shoot open, while she gasps and groans in pain, the agony growing to searing levels. This isn’t the first time it happens to her, but it has been a while and she doesn’t usually sustain so much damage beforehand.

Skadge pulls the dagger out again, observes how drops of blood slide out from the hole and then releases her arm. He lets her fall back against the wall and slide to the floor, clutching the wounded area at the same time.  
As she lies there on the ground shivering, he looks rather satisfied at the bloodied weapon, which he runs his fingertip against.

“You know, I thought about how I’d kill ya, what would be the most entertaining.  
Blasting was obviously the first option. Would’ve been nice to see a few holes in that ugly mug o’ yers, but nah. It’d be too quick, ya know? That’s why I tried strangling instead. Figured it’d be fun to let people get the whole body and wonder how I did it. Well, before they examine it, of course.”

While he rambles, Jov feels how her headache becomes worse. She hates monologues from assholes like him, and she has experienced it too many times. The worst ones are when she’s on the verge of death, like her current situation. Can’t easily interrupt them.  
As he stays busy with his superior attitude, she begins looking around, searching for any kind of hope to change this scenario. That’s when she sees it – Skadge’s gun. He didn’t drop it outside, after all; it simply ended up underneath Mako’s chair.

“But now that we’ve been fighting for so long”, he continues, “there’s no point to it, right? I could crush your skull or decapitate you. That’d leave a nice gift for your mando friends. Or even better, your woman could get one last chance to kiss your face, if she don’t mind a bit o’ blood.  
But hey, now that I’m holding this knife, it gave me an idea. Don’t think I’ve ever flayed anyone alive. It’d be pretty fucking interesting to try it out on you, don’t ya agree?”

He finally turns his eyes towards her again and prepares to reach for her on the floor, but his lack of attention was an error. She picks something up and then glares at him, with only one of her eyes still being fully open.  
“I’ve…got a better idea, dickwad”, she tells him through her hoarse voice.

She gets ahold of the gun and fires it into his leg at first, and then his arm, making him shout in pain and drop his weapon. She desperately struggles to get back up, but he uses his other leg to kick her weapon away too. He obviously has more stamina left for brawling, but she activates her jetpack, being thrusted against him so that he collides with the wall once more. She may be exhausted, but she continues, fueled by pure survival instincts.

They keep fighting, wrestling on the floor, struggling to maintain dominance quite literally. Blood stains the whole area, most of it originating from Jov.  
Eventually, he ends up with his back against the floor, with her above him, but while one of his arms hurts too much to do anything with, he secures the other one around her throat, making her choke again.  
“You…think I need both arms to strangle ya, kid? Don’t know me very well.”

She gasps and thrashes, attempting to punch his arm away, but it’s too difficult. She’s severely injured and her strength is diminished, a lot of her senses being in a faulty state.  
Trying to look for a solution, she glances around and spots another of his weapons – the dagger. She stretches her arm out towards it, doing everything she can grab the hilt. Simultaneously, he is attempting to find a way to break her neck or somehow choke the life out of her, making it a contest for survival.

Luckily, Jov ends up on the winning side. She seizes the vibrodagger, lifts it up and then thrusts it into his chest. He grits his teeth and groans to begin with, but it turns into a roaring shout once she twists it around. When he still refuses to let go, she raises it and then stabs him again. And again. And again.

After several gruesome and harrowing seconds, his hand lets go of her and his body stops moving. She lands on his chest and not only his body, but the entire floor is littered with his remains. Every surface around her is a bloody and scorched mess. Terminals and panels have been destroyed, with some sparks of electricity still coming out of them; cables remain exposed and the whole bridge is filled with alarms and errors. If they want to get anywhere after this, they really need to make a lot of repairs.

Jov slowly gets back on her feet, but it’s not easy. Her body is aching, practically begging her to get medical attention and she’s starting to get really dizzy. She’d prefer not to pass out right on the bridge, but with all the blood she has lost, she doesn’t know if she can make it outside.  
However, before she can limp towards the door, she feels how she’s being stopped. Something grabs ahold of her leg and prevents her from leaving.

As she gazes down, she spots Skadge’s hand holding onto her.  
“…why…why won’t you just fucking die, asshole?”, she asks in a raspy tone.

He coughs heavily in response, spitting up blood, before he displays a weak grin, all of his teeth stained.  
“Heh. If I’m goin’, Vlasic…then so are you.”

She figures that he’s being delusional at first, just spouting nonsense, but that’s when she notices how he has grabbed one of his grenades, which he’s currently fiddling with.  
“You…you cowardly fucker! Let go of me!”

“What, scared of a lil’ death, mando? Thought your people did everything for it. Well, now’s your chance to see it.”

Jov would never claim that she’s afraid of death, of always facing it whenever she’s on a battlefield or hunting a target. She has encountered it many times before, even prior to becoming a bounty hunter, but every meeting is different. She would prefer to grow old first or at least do something heroic while she goes down. Exploding inside her own ship, next to some treacherous dickhead, isn’t exactly her preferred way to perish.

She tries to kick him off, but it doesn’t do much. His grip is too firm, and she is too weak at this time. It’s frightening how he can maintain such strength in his fingers, after how many times she dug that blade into him.  
Jov lifts her eyes and gazes at the exit, seeing that it’s only a few meters away, but that’s currently too much. She spots the gun and the dagger, but none of them are nearby, not within her reach.  
She can’t get out. This might be it, after all.

But then, she remembers her armor. She may have forgotten to wear the flamethrower, but the jetpack is still attached. Will its speed be enough to jettison her out of his grasp or is he too stubborn to let go? Only one way to find out.

She activates the jetpack and aims straight for the door, starting to emit fire as she bursts towards the exit. He tries to hold onto her, as her whole body shakes back and forth, while he pulls out the trigger, initiating the countdown sequence.  
Jov continues, desperately attempting to escape and while he does slide with her for a little bit, he eventually loses her.

The hunter slams right into the hard metal surface of the door, colliding with it in such speed that she almost knocks herself out. She uses it to remain standing and then hammers the button to unlock the entrance. She falls out of the bridge, onto her knees and then quickly stumbles away, before she just barely clicks the button that shuts it once more, hopefully securing herself from the fallout that will inevitability follow.

From within, she hears an explosion and the whole ship shakes with it. She doesn’t know whether she’s lucky or if it was always this durable, but somehow, the door stays intact. He must not have been lying close enough.  
Shortly after, a lot of the lights around the room go dark and some of the ship’s equipment deactivate, as it loses power.

From a nearby position, Mako hurries up to Jov, who’s now resting against the wall next to the door.  
“Jovana! Oh, thank the stars, you’re alive.” The slicer is shaking, and tears are streaming down her face, but she is unharmed.

“Torian…”, Jov manages to mumble, before she coughs up more blood.

Mako glances over her shoulder, which gives Jov an angle too, and they can both see how the other mandalorian is resting on the floor. Some of his armor has been removed and his body is covered with a certain healing material. Blizz is currently overseeing his condition.  
“Don’t worry, we patched him up with kolto earlier. He’ll live.” She takes a few short steps away and grabs the same pack once more. “Let me fix you as well. You’re not gonna die here, Jovana.”

Jov shuts her eyes and grits her teeth, as another surge of pain overwhelms her.  
“I got him. He’s dead.”

Mako frowns and nods quickly.  
“Good. That treacherous son of a hutt deserved it. I can’t believe he’d do this to us…  
We should’ve never trusted him.”

Some ship consoles are still on and Gault is currently standing next to one, trying to check the information. Soon enough, all of the lamps in this room restart.  
“Ah, there we go”, he says. “Still have some backup energy. Looks like gravity and air is deactivated on the bridge, though, along with a lot of terminals. Think the big tumor blew a hole in there with that explosion. We’re not going anywhere.”

Jov is breathing heavily, feeling how her consciousness is slipping away.  
“…shit. Well, just…call the clan. Tell ‘em they need to pick us up. Tell them, I…”

And that’s as far as she comes, until everything goes black. Mako widens her eyes.  
“Jovana? Jovana! Stay with us, please!”

The hunter cannot answer, as the dreams seize her now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, so...that's it. Skadge is gone and Jovana got quite beat up._   
>  _I've tried to think about what he would do for quite some time, and after seeing how he acted in-game for so long, I just didn't see a future where they managed to stay together. Betrayal felt suitable._   
>  _Kinda funny that I've now broken the nose of both Jovana and Cierah. Though, I obviously did a lot more to Jovana._


	34. Lasting doubts

While the various warfronts across the galaxy go back and forth, switching victors and progress all the time, the people on Dromund Kaas have to deal with other elements. These factors are usually tied to administration, infrastructure, finances and other activities that are affected by the outcomes of battles further away and how much resources and personnel that the military has to drain in order to sustain itself.

One minor inconvenient detail, which only matters to two people on a personal level, is the fact that Valcera and Lana have not had much time to actually be together on some type of outing as of late. Neither of them has really worried about it, but the truth of the matter cannot be denied.  
The war has simply been too important, and it needs to be won, or at least fought enough that they can guarantee survival. Both are ready to sacrifice a lot of personal joy in order to make that happen, hence why they rarely have extended days out.

Today, however, is different. Technically, they didn’t arrange for this occasion on their own, as their presences – or at least Val’s – was practically required. A certain event is about to occur, which is partially made in her honor, something she finds rather strange.  
To show their gratitude for her efforts and activities that helped prevent further damage and destruction to Dromund Kaas, as well as her current proud service to the capital world and the Empire as a whole, one city is naming a community center after her.

The origin is Varhemmor, a city to the south of Kaas City. Apparently, the center doesn’t just have shops and entertainment facilities, but a museum, which they hope to store and display certain imperial artifacts in the future, to help her Sphere’s work.  
Val doesn’t quite know how she feels about that just yet, but she has promised to appear. She acknowledged that doing so might at least increase morale somewhat. And, as it happens, she figured that bringing some company wouldn’t do any harm.

Initially, Val only asked Lana, as spending some time with the advisor is one of her preferred activities, especially if she has to be involved with something so public. She wants someone to hold onto.  
However, Lana apparently told Ashara, who told Bejarah and eventually it somehow turned into a double date that they’re now going to have. How and why Val agreed to this, she doesn’t quite know, but it’s difficult to change their plans now.

While Val’s former apprentice waits at the shuttle dock, she and Lana are currently sitting in the back of an airspeeder as they're being flown in that direction.  
For this occasion, both of them have dressed in less official Sith attires and picked something formal, yet distinctively less military-esque.

Val is adorned in a rather tight red-gold dress, one that reaches no further than slightly past her knees, allowing her lower legs to be visible. It is also sleeveless and low-cut, letting her show not just a bit of cleavage, but also exposing her neck fully. Sure, she does wear a bronze and onyx necklace, but it doesn’t do much to hide her scars. She apparently wants them to be on display. Additionally, she put on a light application of a violet eye shadow and black lipstick. A perfume emanates from her, which gives a similar soothing impression as blooming rahl-plum trees on Bosthirda.  
At the same time, Lana is sitting in a blue blouse, with black pants and white gloves. While Val has picked out some shoes with slightly higher heels, Lana is wearing tall black boots and a thin grey scarf around her neck. Obviously, at Val’s request, she doesn’t have a cape.

One might expect them to really enjoy this moment, as it’s rare that they get to indulge this kind of activity, even if it will be public. Sadly, Val is currently complaining, specifically about their company.  
“I know how this is going to go. Mark my words, Bejarah will attempt to mess with and tease me. It’s just what she does, to get an annoyed reaction.”

It’s not the first time they’ve chatted about those two. In fact, during the months since their relationship was confirmed, Val does occasionally bring it up and even if she tries her best to support it, she can’t seem to stop her protective feelings for Ash.  
“Isn’t it a bit cynical to assume that she will?”, Lana asks.

“It’s not an assumption, it’s a fact. It will happen, trust me.”  
Val furrows her brow and folds her arms, looking out over the city below them.  
“She’s just like that. She enjoys prodding me, knowing how much I care for Ash.”

“And how would she achieve this annoyed state from you?”

“By doing things that I may disapprove of, or at least question.”

“Such as?”

Val’s response is somewhat delayed, and she glances sideways at her girlfriend, as if an answer shouldn’t be needed.  
“…you know.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

Val shuts her eyes and exhales through her nose.  
“Being…intimate and possessive with Ash.”

Lana slowly raises her eyebrow rather skeptically.  
“And how is that a problem, exactly? Last I checked, they are in a relationship.”

“Yes, but…she’s my apprentice!”

“ _Former_ apprentice.”

Val opens her eyes just to roll them.  
“Whatever.”

“So? She’s not your child, nor your little sister.”

“I never said that.”

“Sometimes you act like she is, though.”

Val hesitates, trying to find the right words that doesn’t make her reiterate past concerns, even if that might happen anyway. Lana has mentioned that she can be rather overprotective, which is ironic, due to the advisor’s own behavior.  
“She’s just precious to me, alright? She was my first apprentice…sort of.”

Lana shrugs.  
“I don’t see how or why that should matter, though. You and I are intimate quite often, sometimes when those two can see us.”

The Councilor quickly diverts her eyes elsewhere.  
“…that’s different.”

“How?”

“Because…” She sighs and tries to gather her thoughts. She can’t let herself lose this battle. “Because we don’t do it to tease them.”

“And how can you be so sure that they will?”

Val snorts and another frown appears on her brow.  
“Bejarah will. Seriously, trust me.”

Lana shakes her head, unsure if she should be amused or worried.  
“You know, I’m not so sure that the two of us having kids some day is a good idea.”

Val blinks confusedly and turns back towards her girlfriend.  
“Why not?”

“Because you will be excessively protective of them.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You just proved it.”

Val stares at her girlfriend, desperately thinking of some kind of excuse, but can’t produce anything worthwhile. Eventually, she starts to pout instead.  
“…I just care a lot, alright? What’s wrong with that? I want Ash to be happy.”

Lana slides a bit closer to her, putting a hand on her arm.  
“Yes, but isn’t Bejarah specifically one of those people who makes her happy? So why are you against that?”

“I…maybe it’s Bejarah, because she’s an old friend.”

“Isn’t that unfair to her, though? You’re judging her for no reason.”

“…shut up", she mutters.

Lana smiles at Val’s grumpy reaction, finding it quite cute regardless of the circumstances. She wraps one of her arms around Val’s shoulders, while using the free hand to caress the Councilor’s cheek.  
“This is the first time in ages that we get to be somewhere without necessarily having to think about the war. We should enjoy ourselves instead of worrying.”

After taking a deep breath, Val slowly emits it and leans further back against the seats in the speeder.  
“I will try. I just hope Bejarah doesn’t attempt to distract me.”

Wanting to perform a distraction of her own, Lana slowly lowers her hand to Val’s waist instead and leans closer, to speak quietly into her girlfriend’s ear.  
“You look gorgeous in that outfit, by the way.”

Val’s focus is temporarily diverted to this new subject. She glances at Lana once more and then straightens her back, gaining a greater poise.  
“I know.”

The confidence she exudes with that statement makes Lana laugh, shortly before she nuzzles Val’s cheek.  
“No hesitation, huh?”

“Should I be?”

Lana wraps her free hand around one of Val’s.  
“Of course not. You’re magnificent.”

“I always am.”

The two of them get lost in some minor acts of intimacy while they wait for the vehicle to reach its destination. Once it does and they approach the correct parking space, it appears that Val was correct.  
In this section, Ash and Beja are already waiting, standing close to each other while discussing an unknown subject in hushed voices. Beja is using a cobalt blue and garnet red jacket-and-skirt combo, while Ash has a set of magenta and white robes. The young Lord looks more official than the simple formality of the mercenary.

Upon arrival, the duo spots how Ash’s back is turned towards them, with Beja’s hand resting against it. As soon as the rattataki notices Val, however, she begins to smirk and then closes the distance to Ash, pulling her into a deep and hungry kiss. Ash wasn’t exactly ready for it, but she sincerely enjoys the act anyhow. She slips her own arms around Beja’s shoulders and her lekku slowly strokes across her beloved’s frame, seemingly reacting with enjoyment.

Once their lips part, Beja tilts her head back and winks at Val.  
“Hey there, boss. Lookin’ snazzy.”

As there were other things on her mind, Ash didn’t notice their arrival, and she turns around with blatant surprise on her face.  
“Oh! Uh, my lord. I didn’t hear you coming.”

Val has to do all she can to fight the grumpy side of her from taking over once more. She glances at Lana with a knowing and annoyed gaze, a look that says, ‘I told you so’. Lana merely smiles and shrugs in response.  
“It’s good to see the two of you again”, Lana points out. “I like your outfit, Bejarah. Quite fitting for the occasion.”

Beja steps closer to her girlfriend and places one hand on Ash's opposite shoulder, while leaning against her.  
“Heh, thanks. Didn’t expect me to walk around in armor, though, did ya?”

“Not at all. Just saying it’s a good choice.”

“Well hey, yours is pretty good too.”

Lana’s eyes drift towards the togruta.  
“And you look fantastic as always, Ashara.”

Ash inclines her head.  
“Thank you. I’m glad that you think so.”

Hoping to pull her into the conversation, Lana glances at Val.  
“You agree, right?”

Val has to really struggle in order to prevent any unnecessary comments from being emitted. Instead, she allows a sigh to escape her lips.  
“Yes, I suppose I do.” Shortly after, she approaches Ash and embraces her former apprentice. “I’m glad you could be here, darling. Though, I am surprised you chose this type of robes. Are you sure you wouldn’t have preferred something more casual for this occasion?”

Ash obviously returns the hug, but shrugs at the question.  
“I wasn’t sure that it would be appropriate. I am a Sith Lord now and, well, this is technically an official activity, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. Well, yes, I suppose one might view it that way, but it doesn’t mean we are required to wear uniforms.”

“This isn’t my normal uniform, but…I see what you mean.”

Val’s fingers slip further down Ash’s body, to wrap around the other woman’s hands.  
“Plus, this is an opportunity for us to spend some time together. We should be able to feel more relaxed around each other.”

“I know, but I do, no matter what I wear.”

Beja snorts amusedly.  
“No use trying, Val. I already spoke to her about this and she insisted. Didn’t wanna have it any other way.”

Val takes a few steps back, allowing Beja and Ash to be close to each other again, while Val gains Lana at her side.  
“Well, I have to admit that Ash is a Sith Lord now, so she shouldn’t feel the need to wear whatever I want", she says, before she addresses Ash again. "You do look rather impressive, my dear, so there’s no need to change or anything.”

Afterwards, she turns to Beja and the two women stare each other, with Val quietly surveying her friend. So many silent seconds go by, that the rattataki eventually smirks and folds her arms.  
“What, no praise for me, huh?”

“You look…adequate.”

“Pfff, c’mon. You can do better than that, Nih’etat.”

“My comments are important to you now, are they?”

“I kinda like hearing a _friend_ say nice things about me, yeah.”

Val rolls her eyes, realizing that Beja used the sympathy card on her. If she opposes this notion now, she’ll look like an ass.  
She approaches the rattataki, places a hand on her shoulder and kisses her cheek.  
“You look lovely. There, happy?”

Beja playfully pokes Val’s stomach in return.  
“Tsk. A little. Next time, try more sincerity.”

“I was sincere.”

“You can do better.”

Once the pilot arrives, all four women get into the passenger seats in the back, while the pilot takes the one in the front. The quartet are all in the same area, undisturbed by the pilot, but the two couples sit on opposite sofas, facing each other.  
The journey towards Varhemmor starts with an awkward silence, mostly due to the tension between Beja and Val. They care for each other, but working out their issues in this case appears to be a slow and difficult process.

Since no one else is saying anything, Lana chooses to address Ash first.  
“Is everything going well with your new position, Ashara?”

Ash faces the advisor and nods.  
“It is, mostly. There are still some shaky elements, though, which I kind of expected. Due to my origin, some people question me and my capabilities.”

“Hmm. I suppose that was unavoidable. How bad is it?”

“Well, I do get a bit frustrated with some of my subordinates from time to time, especially since I want to set an example. I am here to show that the Sith of today – especially alien Sith – do not intend to follow the old ways. That does, unfortunately, open up to certain measures of resistance from them.  
Sometimes, I’m forced to get a bit strict, to show that they cannot walk all over me. Some of it is based on master Valcera’s advice.”

Lana displays a small smile.  
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re at least making progress. From the rumors I’ve received in your department, people are rather impressed with you.  
If there’s anything you need, and you can’t contact Val, I’m always available to you.”

“I know, and I’m thankful, but that isn’t necessary. I want to do this alone and you have a lot to deal with anyhow.”

Shortly after this statement is made, Beja playfully nudges her elbow into Ash’s arm.  
“Alone, huh?”

Ash clears her throat.  
“…yes, fine, with your assistance, I mean.”

“Thought so.”  
She places a kiss on Ash’s cheek.  
“Someone has to watch your back.”

Val sighs once more and decides to look out through the window, rather than at the other two women. Lana smiles sympathetically at her, before trying to take one of her hands. Val accepts the offer.  
Seeing how well that worked, Lana tilts her body closer, lowering her voice into a whisper.  
“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine”, is the response, in a similar volume.  
“I…suppose they are rather cute together.”

“I agree.”

Their tones and Val’s demeanor garners attention from Ash.  
“Are you okay, master? You don’t look so happy about where we’re going.”

The continued use of that term isn’t necessary per se, but it seems Ash has made it into too much of a habit to let go of it just yet.  
“I am. It’s…nothing.”

“I doubt that”, Beja remarks.

Ash turns to view her girlfriend curiously.  
“Do you know something that I don’t?”

“Oh, a lot of things, cutie. In this case, I’m simply familiar with Val’s behavior and opinions. She can be very stubborn with people she cares about, and it’ll take a while for her to accept the inevitable.”

“Actually”, Val starts, ”I can be fairly open-minded as well. I don’t judge people as severely as you believe.”

Beja’s eyes slowly shift back to Val, staring at her intently. A certain idea forms in her mind, as if she takes this as some type of challenge.  
“Really? So, if I were to…I dunno, let’s say propose to my girlfriend. You wouldn’t mind?”

Ash gasps as she hears it, while Lana puts a hand over her mouth and Val’s eyes widen to an incredible degree.  
“Oh my”, says Lana.

“What?!”, Val shouts.

Beja smirks and shrugs.  
“Thought so.”

Ash’s lekku begins to twitch, not only out of astonishment, but embarrassment as well.  
“M-master, this isn’t what you think! We…we haven’t even discussed anything like this!”

“Tsk, it was just an example, babe.”

“You didn’t have to shock us!”

Beja leans her head back and laughs heartily. Simultaneously, Val sighs and closes her eyes again, slowly running a hand over her face. It prompts Lana to hold her once more.  
“Still okay?”, she asks.

“Yes”, Val confirms and when she refocuses on Beja, she does appear to be. Except, this time, her determination grows swiftly. It’s time to face the challenge head-on.  
“You know what, Bejarah? I wouldn't.”

The mercenary not only stops laughing, but actually raises her brow in doubt.  
“…you wouldn't?”

“Damn right. All I want is for Ashara to be happy and achieve whatever she desires in life. If being with you is what she wants, who am I to stand in her way? That is, as long as your request is sincere. If there’s any dishonesty involved, I will come for you.”

Beja actually appears rather intrigued by that confession, as does Lana.  
“Huh. That’s interesting. I’ll try to remember that.”

Ash is still fairly overwhelmed by it all and she stares at Beja.  
“…this is not actually something that’s on the table right now.”

Beja’s expression grows into a grin.  
“You sure?”

“Positive. I haven’t even fully settled into my position as a Sith Lord. I am _not_ about to get married.”

“Hah, alright then. Guess I’ll have to work on it slowly and make sure you get excited about the prospect eventually.”

“…not right now, please.”

Now that the two of them are focusing on each other, Val sighs and gets comfortable in her seat, giving herself a chance to focus on Lana instead.  
“What did I tell you?”

Lana giggles and caresses Val’s hand.  
“Well, at least she’s teasing Ash now and not you.”

“It will come back around, at some point.”  
The two share a pleasant kiss, much more so than previously, which makes Val remind herself about the important aspects of this trip. She rests against Lana’s shoulder and allows the advisor to hold her.  
“But you’re right. I will do my best to savor our time here together.”


	35. Face of glassed reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, this chapter has some connections to "Molding chromed turmoil", the first story I wrote which focused on Cierah and Jovana. It's not critical for this fic, but acts more as an extra layer in their relationship, I guess. Some might say this a bit self-indulgent._
> 
> _I'm not sure if anyone who reads this actually read that one too, but back then, I alluded to the fact that Jovana's story about her parents wasn't entirely honest._   
>  _I had planned to expand on this aspect somewhere in "The precipice of division", but I scrapped the idea for some reason that I don't remember anymore. The big betrayal with Skadge brought back my interest and I thought it was time to do it._
> 
> _This chapter contains some elements of implied transphobia and abuse, but none of it is explicit. Just thought you should know, in case you don't want to read it._

Ever since the defeat of Tormen and the escalated war across the galaxy, Jovana has visited the Spirit of Vengeance – Mandalore’s ship - more and more. Usually, it’s either to look for assignments, see how her clan is doing or to catch up with old man himself. Jov won’t deny that she has really begun to care about him, perhaps even see him as something more than just a leader. She never imagined that she’d find a positive father-figure and therefore feels somewhat compelled to embrace it.

This day is a little bit different, though, as she really has no choice. After the damage that the Blood Fist sustained and due to how severe her injuries were, Artus not only offered her a chance to recuperate on his ship while they repaired hers, but practically demanded it. He wouldn’t trust anyone else’s vessel to carry his champion – and potential daughter-figure – and he knew that mandalorian medical experts would be more than enough for her. Luckily, she didn’t protest.

For the time being, she has her own cabin, which she has asked to be left alone in. She feels rather sore and there’s a lot to think about, something she would prefer to do without being disturbed.  
Currently, she only wears a black tank top and some grey boxer shorts, as most of her time is spent in bed or doing simple workouts, if she can find the will for it. Her toned and strong build is partially on display due to this factor, but that also means the bruises and scratches after the fight are easy to see as well, even if she’s not bleeding anymore.

She rises from the bed and strolls over to the small fridge that the other mandalorians installed in here on her request. As she opens the door, she reaches for one of the many beers lying inside. She could really use one right now.  
Unfortunately, once she tries to straighten her back, she is forced to grit her teeth slightly as pain surges through her body once more, specifically from the abdomen. She hasn’t fully healed yet and might strain herself if she’s not careful.

Ignoring the ramifications for now, Jov heads towards the bed again, with the intention of watching some holovids for a while, but is interrupted halfway there by a knock on the door. She sighs and glances over her shoulder.  
“I thought I told Mand’alor I didn’t want any visitors”, she comments with a raised voice. “Kinda recovering in here, so your issues will have to wait.”

Interestingly, no one answers on the other side, but she does hear noises, as if someone is clicking on the panel next to the door. It’s supposed to be locked, but suddenly slides open anyway. In the entrance stands a familiar figure, dressed in an open jacket with a tall collar and tight pants, both of them in black with yellow lines. The gaze in this woman’s one organic eye is soft.  
“What about a worried girlfriend?”

Surprise washes over Jov, as she hadn’t expected to see this particular woman.  
“Cierah? What…what are you doing here?”

“Mako told me what happened, so I flew as fast as I could.”

Jov sighs.  
“Of course.” She should’ve expected this, really. In the state that Jov was in, one should contact loved ones. Who else would Mako call? No one is closer.  
“But…should you really be in this part of space right now?”

Her voice is somewhat hesitant, as she realizes how Cierah will react. For now, the agent simply shrugs.  
“If you are injured, then yes.” Her concern is definitely appreciated, although not necessary.  
She waits a few moments as the silence grows between them.  
“May I come in?”

Jov snaps out of her thoughts and clears her throat.  
“Huh? Oh yeah, go ahead.”

She waits where she is while Cierah locks the door once more and then walks all the way up to her. The agent slips her arms around Jov’s waist, letting the hunter plant a hand on her cheek as they kiss, albeit more tenderly than usual. They can both sense the gravity of this situation. At least it’s very nice to hold Cierah again. It always is, of course, but whenever they’ve been away from each other for quite a while, that’s when the yearning gets worse.

As their lips part and Cierah leans into her chest, the agent’s gaze begins to roam, and she spots a few specific marks along Jov’s arm. With a finger, she gingerly touches these areas. Jov winces slightly, even if she tries to hide it.  
“What’s this?”

Yeah, this is what she was hoping wouldn’t be noticed quite this quickly.  
“Uh, bruises and stuff?”

She hears how Cierah exhales briefly.  
“Yes, I can see that. I broke my nose recently as well. Do you know what healed it? Extended time in a kolto tank.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”  
Everyone does, really. It’s pretty standard knowledge, regarding exterior and simpler wounds. Can’t take care of everything, though.  
“Wait, what was that about your nose?”

Cierah furrows her brow.  
“Don’t change the subject.” She raises her eye, staring into Jov’s.  
“Don’t tell me you refused it again.”

Jov diverts her gaze to the wall and swallows.  
“…okay, I didn’t.”

“Jovana…”

“Look, I just…” She interrupts herself with a sigh. “I prefer to do most of the healing on my own, at least when I’m not in a hurry.”

“It’s better if you don’t.”

“Not for me. I like it this way. The pain and recovery, they help me focus and learn. I wanna remember this experience.”

Cierah looks at her thoughtfully, likely seeing how Jov isn’t entirely certain in her stance, but that there will be no way to change her mind.  
Eventually, she shakes her head and caresses Jov’s jawline.  
“Sometimes, I dislike how much of a mandalorian you’ve become.”

Jov turns to watch Cierah again, but does not notice any disapproval in her girlfriend’s eye. ‘Concern’ might be a better way to describe it. It brings a smile to her lips.  
“And yet you love me.”

“I’m an idiot.”  
Another kiss, with an increased sense of passion, even if the solemn and delicate nature persists.  
Cierah helps her girlfriend back to the bed. She may not need it, but as there are signs of damage across her body, Cierah won’t let the hunter go alone. Someone has to support her.  
“Other than refusing the tank, how are you doing?”

Jov plonks herself down in the bed and holds the beer in her hand, rolls it around, but doesn’t open it yet.  
“Sore, I guess. I can live with that, though. I’ve been trying to start my workouts again, but it’s going slowly.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be drinking in this state.”

“It’s just a beer. Practically water.”

“…that’s not how alcohol works.”

Jov smiles to herself as she continues to watch the bottle in her hand, but it disperses soon after. Certain familiar thoughts swim around in her head. Perhaps it’s time to talk with someone. Cierah is one of the few that she trusts almost wholeheartedly.  
“I can’t stop thinking about the fight. Still dunno how I should feel.”

Cierah observes her knowingly, while running a hand carefully across Jov’s back, hoping that it helps to soothe her.  
“I understand. Betrayal can be…difficult. My career has had several of them so far.”

“Yeah, I remember. Have you ever dealt with something like this, though? A close companion stabbing ya in the back? I mean, we weren’t friends, but…”

She is given a moment or two to consider it, but Cierah shakes her head afterwards.  
“No, I haven’t had to do so. Yet.”

Ever the cynic. Perhaps that’s justified as well, due to all that Cierah has suffered in the past few years. Jov thinks about her own life, her own ‘career’ and that it hasn’t been easy either.  
The further the silence lingers between them, the more Jov feels how distant and forgotten emotions reappear in her mind. The sensation of escaping them, of opening the bottle and attempting to forget them, is rather strong, but…she resists. Eventually, she puts the beer down on the nearby table instead.

“This whole disaster has reminded me of…certain things.”

Cierah observes her girlfriend, being quite curious of how hesitantly Jov runs her hands over the sheets. It’s not like she never gets fidgety, as that does occasionally happen in private, but this one somehow seems direr.  
“What things?”

Jov lifts a hand up to her own hair, running her fingers through it.  
“Personal stuff.”

That’s all she gets, for now. The signals here are ambiguous, difficult to interpret. Is she reaching out, hoping to get a response, or is she merely trying to display what alternatives are off limits?  
Cierah waits for an explanation, but when it does not arrive, she decides to slide closer. She places a hand over Jov’s, lifts it up and kisses the back of it softly. The tone of her voice has now become gentler, smoother than usual.  
“I know I can be difficult, but…I hope you realize I’m here for you. If you want to talk, I mean.”

Jov finally looks at her, letting the altered yellow eyes search Cierah’s organic one. A few seconds later, she nods slowly.  
“I know, but this is…”  
She diverts them again and runs a hand up to her own mouth, to slowly brush her fingers over it. She swallows, hoping to push the doubt away.  
“I’ve been betrayed before”, she says, only slightly above a whisper. “A few times, actually, by different people. The worst was…well, probably my parents.”

Cierah looks confused.  
“Wait, your parents? The same ones who sold themselves into slavery?”

The hunter takes a deep breath. She holds it for a couple of seconds, and then exhales through the nose.  
“Uh, yeah. That’s…not really true, though.”

“Hmm. But that’s what you told me a few years ago.”

“Yeah. It’s what I tell everyone who asks. It’s…easier that way.”  
She’s on the threshold now, the area where everything will change. No one has received the truth before, the actual story. It’s time that someone hears it.  
“I was adopted.”

Cierah keeps watching her, not thinking it sounds particularly strange so far.  
“I see. By whom?”

“A human couple on Nar Shaddaa. They found me in an orphanage, somewhere on the moon.”

“How did you end up there?”

Jov offers her a small shrug, but not one that seems particularly dishonest or tense.  
“Not sure. My parents apparently came from somewhere in the Republic and for some reason, me and a bunch of other kids were shipped to hutt space. Dunno why.  
Either way, the man in this relationship was the owner of a company. It was pretty small at the time, but he had big plans, aspirations of building a dynasty. He hoped to one day challenge the hutts, show that they aren’t the only ones able to succeed with business out there.”

Cierah is about to ask for the name, but then realizes how foolish that is. If Jov hasn’t said it yet, then it’s not important. Might even be too personal.  
“I see. Why adopt, then?”

“Because he wanted a son, an heir. Obviously, this son had to be a human. Unfortunately, his wife – who he both cared for and held an important position in the same company – was unable to. He didn’t wanna abandon her, so they decided to go another route. Adoption was their first choice and they started looking around.”  
Jov raises both arms. “That’s when they found and took me in.”

“Sounds quite fortunate.”

Jov lowers them again and emits a snort, but she doesn’t immediately dismiss the claim.  
“Yeah, guess it was; at first, anyway.  
For the most part, my life was pretty good during the early years. My parents had credits, a fancy home, I could get pretty much anything I wanted, and they made sure that I got a decent homeschooling droid. Had nothing to complain about, ‘cept the pollution and lack of impressive sights, I guess. Definitely better than the orphanage.”

Cierah tilts her head slightly, seeing where the story is going.  
“When did it start to go wrong?”

“Once I reached puberty. I began to show…a different behavior.”  
She hesitates, lifts her free hand up to the other arm and strokes it in a skeptical, almost timid manner. She frowns, while lost emotions reaches her chest.  
“I didn’t feel like my body was…you know, right. Didn’t like what I saw in the mirror and tried to avoid it. I started asking them to buy different clothes, tried out new styles and other gear.”

Cierah only nods slowly, hoping to be patient.  
“I understand.”

“At first, my dad just dismissed anything that he saw. You know, didn’t see it as a concern and ignored most of what I said. He figured it was part of growing up, that kids go through a phase, but his wisdom would lead me down the ‘right path’.”  
Her frown deepens.  
“At one point, I asked about treatments and surgeries. Wanted to check out some places with him. I was still a minor, so, you know, I needed his help. Mom was fine with it, so I figured he would be too, but…that’s when it went downhill.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Jov doesn’t provide any immediate answers, not wanting to dismiss or confirm.  
“He…he argued with me, a lot. Told me I was wrong and deluded. He said he wasn’t going to help me out with my ‘childish games’ and when I told him it was serious, he tried to shut me down. I wasn’t gonna take that. I’d made my decision, so I ignored him and tried to pursue it on my own. His methods became much viler after that.  
He deliberately began using terms I didn’t associate with, found ways to humiliate me in front of others and used manipulative tactics, to convince me that I was just imagining everything. I was the kid and he was my dad, so I felt confused.”

Cierah is really disliking what she’s hearing, but she doesn’t want to butt in too harshly.  
“What about your mother? Didn’t she try to help you?”

This time, Jov practically scoffs.  
“Fuck no. I mean, she wasn’t completely passive, but she didn’t get it either. When he and I fought, she didn’t try to be understanding in that sense, but hoped to find a middle ground. Like, to let us see each other’s angles. But, I mean, I didn’t want to see his fucking angle. This was _my_ life. It shouldn’t have been up to him. He only wanted a son, someone that could live up to _his_ expectations, and not a child that could be her own person. His ‘angle’ could go fuck itself.”  
She sighs heavily and shuts her eyes, feeling how the old anger is returning. She pinches her nose slightly, attempting to stay calm.  
“We fought practically every day after that. I told him to get a new kid and leave me alone, but by that point, it was too much. Not only had he wasted so many years on me, but I had ‘shamed his honor’ or some shit.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a father to me. I mean, I’ve never had one, but…”

“Yeah, and you should probably feel lucky.”  
Shortly after, Jov looks like she regrets that statement. She tries to discard it, but her eyes still refuse to meet with Cierah.  
“One night, I ended up leaving. We had a particularly nasty argument, where I told him enough was enough. I’d go through with what I wanted, and he wasn’t allowed to get in my way. That’s when he hit me.”

She senses how Cierah clenches her hand slightly, a reflexive move.  
“…how badly?”

Jov shrugs somewhat nonchalantly.  
“Not the worst beating I’ve had in my life, but it was shocking at the time. I realized what he had turned into and I wasn’t gonna stay.  
I stole a bunch of credits and left for the streets. Used a bunch of that cash to go through all the treatments I planned out. Wasn’t difficult to disappear either – with a new name and a new appearance, it’s pretty easy at the bottom levels of that moon. Few ever go looking and there’s no way to register citizens.”

“A new life, then.”

“Yup. Joined street gangs, syndicates, experienced what it was like to live in the worst of slums, ones that the hutts forget about. I became someone new, someone different, and tried to ignore who I’d been. Met Bery and a bunch of other people that became my friends.”  
Those specific memories seem to help with the agitation, to relax the tension. It doesn’t disperse, but such thoughts have a healing element, as ironic as it may be.  
Eventually, she raises her hand and shows two fingers.  
“Two years. That’s how long it took for dad to find me again.”

Cierah frowns, but focuses on Jov’s face, rather than the hand.  
“Did he intend to kill you?”

“Nah, that wasn’t it. He was a manipulative, controlling, bigoted and a self-obsessed little shit, but he wasn’t a killer. He’d hired a bounty hunter to find me and brought a bunch of guards down to the lower levels. Told me he wanted to ‘help’ me, that he’d found some type of therapy that would do the trick, a new route to a ‘better life’. Apparently, he couldn’t just pretend I was dead.  
The whole idea was just…”  
She opens her mouth and gags somewhat.

Hoping to show her support, Cierah continues to caress Jov’s back and shoulder, staying close. One hand each is still intertwined.  
“What did you do? Gather the gang?”

She shakes her head.  
“Couldn’t let the others know, so I had to deal with it myself. I mean, it’s not like I’d sat still for two years. I had learned to fight, to kill, to live in a tough environment where everyone wants your stuff or your life.  
I lured them into a warehouse where I shot his guards, the bounty hunter and then cornered him too. I stared at him for a while and considered telling him how wrong he was about me, how much he fucked up. But, no words came out of my mouth. I just…”  
She lifts her hand, creates a gun with it and pretends to pull the trigger. Her eyes are open, but faraway, practically blank.  
“And that was it. Only way I could be free of him.”

Cierah leans closer, nuzzles Jov’s shoulder, showing that she’s nearby.  
“I understand, and I agree. I wouldn’t have tolerated it either.”

Jov takes another breath, but this one being somewhat shakier. She looks solid, but there’s something trembling within. The truth is strenuous.  
“I looked my mom up after that, told her what happened. Said I didn’t want to do the same to her, but I wasn’t gonna let her get in my way.  
She was…distraught, obviously, but she said she understood. She left Nar Shaddaa after that and we’ve not seen each other since.”

“You don’t know where she is?”

Jov slowly shakes her head again.  
“Don’t even know if she’s still alive, and I don’t care.”

After it’s over, they sit together in silence, just letting everything sink in and for any inner fire to cool down.  
Once the time seems right, Cierah resumes the conversation.  
“This was…quite a story. When you first told me what happened to your parents, I thought it sounded a bit too dismissive, like you were hiding something. I now see why you preferred fiction over reality.”

“Yeah. I’ve tried to forget. Sadly, what Skadge did made me remember things I hadn’t thought about for years. Just another reason I’m glad I killed that son of a hutt.”

“A reasonable reaction.  
I guess you don’t know who or where your real parents are?”

In response, Jov grimaces, looking thoroughly displeased.  
“Don’t say ‘real’. Parenthood isn’t about blood, you know.”

Cierah hesitates and scratches her own neck.  
“Oh, yes. Of course. Sorry, I meant-“

“Yeah, I know.”  
She pulls her hand out of Cierah’s grasp, but then wraps the arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders instead, to show that she’s not mad.  
“No idea where they might be, though. They were from the Republic, but other than that, who knows? My name was never saved in the records, only where I was taken from. Could’ve been soldiers or refugees, I guess, since it’s one of those places where the war was at the time.  
I’ve always figured they died, but I honestly don’t know. All my searches have always turned up nothing. The war destroyed too much.”

Cierah slides her arms around Jov’s waist and leans against her.  
“I now see why you’re so attached to Mandalore. You’ve already been adopted once, but he is actually a good person. A good father.”

Jov clears her throat, looking somewhat awkward as she hasn’t exactly spoken of him like that.  
“Yeah…maybe that’s it.”

Not wanting to make it too awkward, Cierah lifts a hand to hold Jov’s again, clutching it.  
“Thank you. For…trusting me with this.”

“I might’ve never done it at all, but…well, got some new perspectives recently. Maybe hiding who I was forever isn’t such a good idea.”

Cierah frees her hand and puts it on Jov’s cheek instead, turning her so that they can face each other, before changing into gentle caressing motions.  
“You know I love you, right? For who you are”, she whispers.

Jov stares at her, searches her eyes and expression. She finally manages an actual smile.  
“I’ve kinda noticed, yeah.”

“And I always will.”

Their lips become locked once more, fiercer than last time, but in an act that displays gratitude and security. Despite all the hardships around the galaxy, they have each other.  
Shortly after, Jov lifts Cierah into her lap, ignoring the slight pain that it produces over some of her bruises.  
“You wanna watch some vids and drink beer?”

“Right now, that sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This isn't the first place that I've mentioned Jovana's identity, but it is the first time that I think I've made her explain the details._   
>  _Not entirely satisfied with this chapter, to be honest. I've sat and ruminated on it all week, and while I still don't know if I like it, I'm not going to change anything. Not right now, anyway._


	36. A reason to toil

Once more, she seems to have found it. The serenity, the confidence, the focus, all of them being aspects which she feared might’ve been lost in recent incidents. It would be hard to blame her for the fear and the sensation of stumbling around in the blurred ambiguity of life, especially after what she endured. She doesn’t really care for the sympathy, though, that people either assumed they knew what it felt like or expressed enough compassion for her dilemma. She just wanted it restored.

After her session with Zal’riva a few weeks ago, Ktila now feels much better, like she’s in control of herself once more. It was necessary and thankfully, she doesn’t actually feel horribly guilty for leaning so heavily against someone else. Normally, that might have been the case, because she prefers to stand on her own two feet, rely on her own powers when composure is at stake. Because this scenario involved Zal, she is not haunted by shame. In many ways, they are each other’s strength, after all.

That said, she hasn’t stopped meditating since that day. She still respects a lot of what the Jedi taught her, and this type of technique just happens to be one she refuses to let go of.  
She still can’t say that she’s not worried regarding the influence that the Emperor might have over her. She knows what he’s capable of and has no delusions that one measly meditation session will be enough to block him out. What it does prove, is that she won’t let him win.

On a table nearby her location, she has placed a holder for some incense, which is currently burning in order to create a more serene atmosphere for her to sit in. A scent that is reminiscent of the argoranni flower, one that is grown quite broadly on several sections of Corellia – especially in Green Jedi enclave gardens – fills the room, igniting sensations of nostalgia and safety in Ktila. She will freely admit that she remembers her time among that subsection of the Order more fondly than the one on Tython. Sometimes, she yearns to reclaim those days.

While she sits here, trying to concentrate on soothing and pleasant thoughts, in order to maintain discipline, she suddenly senses something in the air. There are movements around her, a presence that enters the room and begins to watch her carefully.  
At first, Ktila wonders if it might be either Kira or Scourge. She knows that they aren’t actually physically in the room, as the door never opened, but it wouldn’t be impossible for them to connect with her mentally. Such is the capability of the Force.

It’s not until she hears a voice, one that is unfamiliar to her, that she realizes this is something entirely different.  
“I see the techniques of the Jedi haven’t changed in the last few centuries. Not that surprising, I guess.”

The voice is calm, but there’s an underlying tone of amusement hiding in plain sight.  
It’s not unusual that one receives visions in this type of semi-conscious state, when one’s mind is calm and open to the Force. Throughout history, Jedi and other Force users have actually attempted to deliberately receive such clarity, in order to seek direct guidance for their actions, that it will see their intrinsic plea and offer wisdom. Doesn’t always work, of course, and Ktila has never been fully convinced that the Force has the sentience or perception of mortals. It feels much more like a repository for information and power, across space and time, with rules that cannot be known or understood.

Even so, this seems quite different, like she’s contacted much more directly. Is this actually a vision or someone creating a connection to her?  
“Hello? Who is this?”

“Someone who wants to talk. Preferably face to face too, if you don’t mind.”

Okay, that sounds quite strange and a lot more immediate than what Ktila is used to. She decides to slowly open her eyes and finds herself looking straight at someone who sits in front of her, a human.  
Well, not a living human, of course, but a transparent depiction, potentially a spirit. The features of the body are somewhat feminine, but her black hair is fairly short, no more than shoulder-length. Despite the flickering presence, Ktila can still observe the warm beige color of her skin and the blue eyes. She wears a purple jacket with black pants and a white shirt underneath. She’s sitting, just like Ktila, with her legs crossed.

They stare at each other; Ktila in a searching manner, while the other merely displays a faint smile.  
“I don’t recognize you”, says the chiss.

“No? I guess it’s true that we haven’t seen each other before, but I know someone who’s been aware of your presence for quite a while. You might call him an old friend, though I’m not sure if he would agree.”

“Who?”

“You should know him, since he’s on your ship.”

Ktila glances around confusedly, wondering who this weird woman is talking about, but this state does not last for very long. Gradually, the red eyes widen, and she stares at the spirit more intently now.  
“Wait, are you…Revan?”

The human snorts and lowers her gaze to the floor. Her smile becomes somewhat more prominent.  
“I discarded that title long ago. I prefer my actual name.”

“Oh, right. Raekah.”

“Heh. So he has been talking about me after all, huh?”

This is obviously quite astounding, a revelation that few – if any – have ever been able to receive. It should perhaps fill Ktila with excitement, but instead, she not only appears confused, but also skeptical.  
“How is this possible? You died long ago.”

Raekah shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Honestly, I have no idea, but I can guess. Both of us have been mentally prodded by Vitiate in the past, right? And subsequently, we peered into the depths of his mind too, due to the strength of the connection. Wouldn’t be so strange to consider that a bridge might have been created between our souls, a type of bond through the Force.”

Ktila furrows her brow, the stare intensifying.  
“How do you know about that?”

In return, Raekah attempts to infuse her smile with a disarming value. It meets with only partial success.  
“If there is a bond between us, memories can be shared as well.”

“But I don’t sense any memories or knowledge from you.”

“Because you’re still corporeal. At least that’s my theory.”

Ktila tries to relax, to ease her suspicion, but that is practically inconceivable. After what happened on Dromund Kaas, it’s impossible for her to not question anything that has to do with visions which she has no control over.  
“But…you were a Jedi, right? If you’re dead, shouldn’t you be one with the Force?”

“Sure, but when has the Force ever been so straightforward?”

This isn’t an unreasonable occurrence per se. Who hasn’t heard of Force ghosts? In fact, she has even been contacted by the one of her old master from the Tython Order, during the difficulties in the Emperor’s lair. Still, she can’t be certain that this spirit speaks the truth. Why would someone like Revan contact her?  
“How do I know this isn’t just another mind trick from Vitiate? He’s pulled a lot of crap on me, ever since I was captured.”

“Well, guess you can’t. Nothing in this galaxy exists without a degree of doubt. But why would he do this? Why would he send someone like me to you? We’ve never met. I have no relevance to your existence.”

“I visited Dromund Kaas recently and received visions on that world, of the past and the future. I think that proves he’s not done with me yet, and I’m not willing to rule out any deceptions along the way, even something like this.”

The humor appears to evaporate from Raekah’s expression then and her eyes are diverted to the side. They gain a faraway quality, combined with a measure of melancholy.  
“I know what that’s like. I failed to eliminate him once in the distant past, failed to prepare the Republic for the inevitable invasion and then failed to kill him a second time.  
In many ways, my life became a disaster because of him, which tainted everything I experienced. I tried to escape him and the link he crafted between us, but I never fully succeeded. He was always out there, always waiting. I felt a sense of duty, practically an obsession, that I had to be the one to put him down once and for all.”

What this spirit tells her is…frighteningly familiar. How many times has she not questioned herself along her current road, whether she’s doing the right thing or just descending into a path that is inescapable? If this is what Raekah experienced before, is Ktila merely following her trail, zealously walking in her footsteps? Is she a shadow of Revan, a mere imitation, or the successor? She doesn’t really want to be either of them and the idea of fate controlling her in this fashion is quite discouraging.

She tries to gain control of herself by running a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
“Okay, let’s…let’s say I put my doubts aside for a moment. If I actually believe that you are Rev-…Raekah, then what? Why are you here? What do you want?

Their gazes are allowed to clash once more and Raekah suppresses the previous hesitation.  
“Well, I don’t really know yet. I didn’t transfer myself into your company out of free will, but this doesn’t feel like a coincidence. Spirits rarely appear like this for no reason. There’s always a purpose.  
Since we’re both in here, on your ship, perhaps you subconsciously summoned me? You seem to be in a meditative state.”

Ktila shakes her head skeptically.  
“That’s not possible. Most Jedi, especially me, don’t have that power. I can’t just call for a spirit out of nowhere.”

“You aren’t just a Jedi, though, are you? You’re a powerful Force user, an influential individual, and your destiny is tied to something greater. You have faced the Sith Emperor’s terrors and lived. Your mind remained intact, when other Jedi were shattered.”  
She ponders her own response for a few seconds, snorts with a hint of mirth and then shrugs.  
“Or maybe I’m just a figment of your imagination, another aspect of your psyche taking my shape. Who knows?”

Well, if this really is her own mind playing tricks on her, it’s being frustratingly vague about it. Is this what it’s like to deal with her? Do others view her this way?  
“I will agree that I’ve experienced a lot, but I don’t remember wanting company right now, definitely not from a ghost.”

Raekah tilts her head curiously and studies Ktila with a piercing gaze.  
“That’s not true, though. I can sense it in you, you know? You’ve been reflecting on some rather difficult elements of life, on things that you may not want to face.”  
She nods in the direction of the wall that leads towards the hull.  
“There’s a war out there, right? One that you’ve deliberately avoided. You believe that your place is not in that conflict, that you have a more important mission. But it’s never that easy, is it? You still care about those who are forced to participate in the endless cycle of battle.”

Ktila frowns once more and folds her arms.  
“How can you know all of this?”

The human lifts a hand to poke at her own head.  
“I can sense your memories and emotions. Your thoughts are my thoughts. Your concerns open themselves to my inquiry.”  
She tilts her body forward, resting her arms on her legs.  
“Can you really be passive in this fight? Is being neutral the right thing to do? You ask yourself this all the time.  
The Empir-…no, Zal’riva needs you, now that the situation is growing bleaker. They are facing overwhelming odds.”

Ktila feels uncomfortable with someone being able to gaze into her like this. Jedi may perform unified meditations that allow them to understand each other’s’ emotions, but that has never included detailed descriptions of memories, of hidden feelings and opinions. Only one man has ever succeeded with that and she still fears the result.  
“I don’t care for that nation.”

“But your beloved does. It’s hard to discard her fate, isn’t it?”

The position that she’s being cornered into is problematic. She hasn’t forgotten what she told Saresh not too long ago, but in this particular instance, she doesn’t want to admit how important it is to her.  
“The Empire is still wrong in its methods.”

“Maybe, but does that mean the citizens have to be crushed? Do they deserve total annihilation?  
If they can find a new leader - a better one - with a new principle to follow, there is a future in the Empire, one that Zal’riva can embrace. That’s what you want for her.”

Ktila looks away, not being able to face this ghost any longer. Perhaps Raekah won’t be able to read her thoughts so easily now.  
“Right now, that’s none of my concern.”

She senses how Raekah keeps watching her for several long and intense seconds, until she finally relaxes. The human leans back again and places her hands on her feet in the center.  
“I never used to be passive either. I was always ready to engage in the next big battle, to fight for the right cause. The Jedi discarded these ideas, said that conflict wasn’t the right approach, but they didn’t realize what ignoring the issue would mean.  
During the decades, the reason for my struggles kept changing. At first, just like you, I was driven by righteousness. I fought for the Republic, for the galaxy, for the future. It’s why I did everything I could to stop the Emperor and why I later on attempted to change the Republic into my way of thinking. I didn’t succeed with either, but I had to try.”

“You’re saying this didn’t last?”

Raekah smiles and shakes her head.  
“It didn't. Eventually, I realized that there was something more important to me – family and friends. When I met Bastila, my scope narrowed, and my drive altered. In the final fight against Vitiate, my wife and child were my motivation.”

Momentarily, Ktila shuts her eyes and bites her lip. She really dislikes these parallels.  
“Some might say that’s selfish.”

“Probably, yeah. I mean, I still agreed that stopping the Emperor was the only way to ensure our survival, but it was crucial to me that I shouldn’t lose sight of who I was.”  
She leans forward and puts a hand on Ktila’s leg. The chiss is unable to prevent herself from meeting that gaze once more.  
“It’s the same for you, Ktila. Zal’riva is important to you, we both know that. You have a mission, a purpose that you pursue with vigor and I don’t wish to stop you from accomplishing your goals, but don’t forget why you’re here. If you lose her, will the fight against Vitiate really matter?”

Ktila hesitates, taking a deep breath as she considers the options.  
“…shouldn’t it? I can’t do this just for me. That’s not my way.”

“Perhaps not, but when this is all over, what will the ‘hero of the galaxy’ really give you? It’s just a title, a reputation, left as old glories. You’ll have no one to share it with.”

This hits Ktila not as some type of surprising revelation, but as an unwanted truth that was hiding beneath the surface all along. Her fear of accepting it, of letting it gain ground and consume her, is why she has tried to ignore it.  
Now that she allows herself to acknowledge its existence, she suddenly recognizes a frightening possibility.  
“Hold on, are you saying that something might happen to Zal?”

Another smile, this one more mysterious than the others, but also frustratingly perceptive.  
“I don’t know. What is your heart telling you?”

Ktila looks down at the floor and starts thinking about the current events of the galaxy. Images of Zal, of the fighting between the Republic and the Empire, as well as the banners of the New Empire and Darth Malgus, enter her mind. She was there for the revelation, when the betrayal first occurred, and the conflict would seemingly grow deeper. Dammit, why does Zal have to care so much for them? Why does she have to protect that stupid Empire? All that she has ever gained from Sith and imperials alike is suffering.

The chiss opens her mouth and prepares to ask yet another question, but it’s pointless. The spot that she turns towards is empty.


	37. Blood of stars

The traffic around Ziost’s orbit tends to be pretty dense on most of its cycles. Being one of the main population and trade worlds in the Sith Empire means that it attracts a lot of attention, especially from outsiders that are allowed entry. Most ships are therefore of a civilian composition, not military.  
Like the majority of central planets in the Empire, it has also mostly been still and undisturbed by the war, safe in its position that it will take quite some time before the world is ever targeted. Several outer planets will have to fall before such a scenario can be considered. Or so its population believed.

A gap had opened up in the Sith Empire’s sector-wide defense grid, one that is usually difficult to find, but immensely useful to exploit. When rivals of the Empire detected it, they immediately seized the opportunity.  
Today, the orbital stations suddenly detect a surge of activity on their sensors, more so than usual. It has happened that certain small imperial fleets have arrived here, but none of this magnitude. A large array of cruisers, carriers, frigates, destroyers and other ships drop out of hyperspace within the system. They are reminiscent of imperial ships in their design, but carry a slightly different digital identification, ones that display the mark of the New Empire.

At the very center of the fleet flies a larger vessel, bigger than the rest, which can only be classified as a dreadnought. Inside its bridge sits the most important figure to the entirety of this very young faction.  
Emperor Malgus has personally joined his fleet, watching the proceedings from his chair in the center of the room. His New Imperial Guard, led by the chagrian called Chondrus Berani, stands nearby.

Not feeling comfortable in a seated position during this momentous event, Malgus pushes himself from his chair, walks a few steps away and places his arms behind his back. He watches not just the holographic display of the planet on nearby projectors, but also its direct visage through the windows dozens of meters in front of him.  
“Give me an assessment of the planet’s defenses”, he tells the people around him.

All kinds of New Imperial officers are stationed in the area, ones that follow his orders to the letter.  
The sensors officer - a human - behind one of the closest consoles turns look at him.  
“Our scanners detect the same display that we’ve seen in our reports, your majesty”, he says. “They do have a small number military vessels posted as guards, along with a few orbital cannons. It is enough to drive off pirates and small-scale Republic attacks, but not enough to defeat your assault, your highness.”

Malgus looks pleased and inclines his head.  
“Excellent. What about communications?”

“We detect a few comm buoys in the system, but all of them can be eliminated by our vessels on your command, your majesty”, another human informs him.

“Very good. What is the status of the stealth ships?”

A neimoidian comm officer is next to speak up.  
“They are arriving just now, my Emperor. Darth Decimus has sent a confirmation signal. They are ready to be dispatched.”

“Open up a channel.”  
The officer does as she is told and soon enough, another hologram appears on the central projector next to the view of Ziost, which instead displays another pale man in heavy armor. It’s not possible to see the surrounding location, but Malgus knows that Decimus is on the bridge of the foremost stealth vessel, ones they stole from the Sith Empire’s production centers months ago.  
“Darth Decimus. Glad you could keep up with our speed.”

The other tall Sith folds his arms and shrugs.  
“It wasn’t so difficult. These ships have more power in them than you might believe.”

“I’m sure you will get a chance to prove this very soon.”

“I hope so, since this will be their first proper challenge. Other battlefields barely sated their hunger.  
What are the sights of Ziost showing you?”

Even after working together for a few months, Decimus is still not particularly deferent. He doesn’t call Malgus ‘your majesty’ or ‘my lord’. It isn’t surprising, seeing as how they were both members of the Dark Council before and even if Malgus has taken the rank of Emperor, he will have to truly display his strength before any Sith like Decimus will acknowledge that fact. For now, Malgus doesn’t care. Not as long as the job gets done.

“For the time being, the situation is what we had expected”, he informs the Darth. “They are not prepared for our strike and they never will be. Our plan will proceed accordingly.  
Split your ships into two groups of different sizes. The majority will deal with the orbital cannons on marked locations, while the rest will destroy the comm buoys, to prevent any signals from being sent to other imperial worlds. My fleet will coordinate to destroy the defensive ships. They will not be an issue.”

Decimus nods briefly.  
“As you say.”

While the Darth disappears off-screen to give the orders and make sure that every vessel has the correct targets, Malgus approaches his guards, Chondrus specifically. He lowers the volume of his voice too.  
“Once we get down to the surface, I want you to start by infiltrating the headquarters of Production and Logistics.”

Chondrus looks into his master’s eyes with a mildly curious gaze.  
“Are you searching for something specific?”

Malgus furrows his brow and diverts his eyes elsewhere.  
“Vowrawn likes to pretend that those buildings are of no importance, but I know he hides information, artifacts and resources down there, in underground vaults. Scour the place for anything of interest.”

“Very well. And his staff? Prisoners?”

“No. Offer them a chance to join us, but if they refuse, destroy them all.”

Chondrus bows his head in respect.  
“Yes, your imperial majesty.”

Before Malgus can resume his conversation with Decimus, the human sitting by the main sensors console stands up.  
“Your highness?”

The Emperor turns to look at him.  
“What is it?”

“We have detected some anomalies on the scanners. It appears that there are incoming hyperspace signals across the system.”

Not unusual per se, as this planet is a pretty popular destination for a lot of people. Could simply be new arrivals that wish to trade or visit, which the New Empire had included in their calculations.  
Unfortunately, Malgus senses unease from his officer.  
“How many?”

The man glances down at the monitor again and clears his throat.  
“Uh, five, sir. For now. But I-  
…no, wait. There are ten of them now. Erm, twenty? No, thirty. I…”

Malgus interrupts him with a dismissive wave of his hand and approaches a nearby device.  
“Put it on the projector.”

Another set of holograms appear, forming in the middle of Ziost and Decimus, which display a different section of the system. Just like he had feared from his officer’s reaction, these are no mere civilian transports. A whole fleet is arriving, one to rival that of the New Empire.  
Decimus returns to his previous position and shows the same type of scowl as the Emperor.  
“What the hell is going on? That’s a Sith imperial fleet. What are they doing here? Wasn’t this attack supposed to be a secret?”

Malgus stares at the holograms, seeing new ones appearing every few seconds. This is clearly not a coincidence, but he still finds it quite strange. They had meticulously planned this assault and made sure that it remained hidden from most eyes. They sent lots of ships to other planets as distractions, to convince their enemies that they must split up in order to defend their space. All of it was part of a scheme that would widen the gap, give Malgus’ a chance to strike at the heart.  
Ziost was supposed to become their first foothold in the core of the Sith Empire, an effortless victory. It was meant to display the ineptitude of the Dark Council, but this isn’t looking like an easy situation anymore.

The Emperor clenches his fists, feeling how irritation starts to win ground in his mind. He tries to maintain composure by concentrating on their target.  
“It doesn’t matter. Our fleet can match them. We should proceed with our intended goal.”

“What?”, Decimus asks in surprise. “Are you mad? Do see the amount of ships they’ve brought? This won’t be the overpowering victory we were promised. It will be a full-blown battle, with lots of casualties. Unless we want to lose a high number of ships in a very uneven situation, we should retreat, _now.”_

Even if Decimus doesn’t sound panicked, there is definitely some urgency in his voice. Malgus snorts in an unimpressed fashion.  
“Are you a coward, Decimus? You fear our enemy’s forces that much?”

The glare he receives in return is enough to reveal the emotions of the other Sith, without Malgus actually being there to sense them through the Force.  
“No, I’m not. However, I’m not an idiot either. I tend to see myself as smart enough to realize when I’m outmatched. I was in charge of Military Strategy, remember?”

Malgus hates having arguments with his subordinates in public like this, even more so when one insults him. That Decimus is a Sith doesn’t really help, as showing some kind of resistance might be proof to others what they should expect.  
He could potentially order the Darth to do this anyway, to show his strength and who’s in charge, but there’s a slight disadvantage with the fact that Decimus is on a stealth ship. If he refuses Malgus’ commands, he could tell the other ones to retreat with him and that will weaken the Emperor’s position among his troops even further.

It’s no secret to Malgus and many of the other leading Sith in the New Empire, that Decimus doesn’t fully trust their ‘Emperor’ yet. He doesn’t believe in Malgus’ leadership enough to put much value in the absolute truth of his word. Decimus was a member of the Dark Council for more years than him and even if he may have showed his prowess on the battlefield, the old Military Strategy leader is not afraid to question or even defy him, if the situation demands it. For now, perhaps this can’t be avoided.

“Fine”, Malgus says reluctantly and takes a step back. He’s angry that this is the conclusion they will both have to accept, but he has no other choice.  
However, just when he’s about to order the retreat, he glances at one of the texts that scroll by on the projector. It forces him to do a double take.  
“Wait. That ship in the center, I recognize the identification codes. Cross-check with the imperial lists.”

He addresses his sensors officer, who follows the orders and then offers a surprised nod.  
“It’s…it’s the Searing Conquest, your majesty.”

Decimus’ frown changes from an annoyed nature to a contemplative one.  
“…Marr’s flagship.”

Malgus nods, now looking quite pleased, perhaps even excited.  
“Precisely. If I know his methods, then he’s bound to be on board.  
I agree that we can’t really face this entire fleet head on for a lengthy period of time, if we aim to achieve victory and reduce losses. However, a quick strike now can still cause quite a bit of damage to the old Empire.  
Marr is the last major military leader in the Dark Council and if he falls, many will scramble to seize his position. It will cause internal turmoil that will spread throughout their forces.”

There are still clear signs of reluctance on Decimus’ features, but not enough to hold him back.  
“Yes…I suppose I can see the use in this outcome. It’s a valuable plan.” He directs his eyes towards Malgus. “We should take him out.”

The Emperor places his arms behind his back.  
“Then we are agreed. I will take care of the rest of the fleet, while you and the stealth squadron target the flagship. Destroy it and leave no survivors.”

“Acknowledged.”

As the call temporarily ends, Malgus opens another fleetwide channel and raises his voice with a commanding tone.  
“New Imperial ships, this is your Emperor. Spread out into attack formations and seize as much attention from our enemies as you can muster. Today, the old decrepit Empire shall lose its most valuable commander.”  


* * *

  
On the opposite side of the battlefield in space, Marr stands on the bridge of the Searing Conquest, crafted with a similar design as the dreadnought at the center of their enemy’s fleet. While officers and personnel run around the room, checking and dividing information among themselves, the leader of the Empire’s Defense Sphere quietly observes the movement of the other ships, waiting to see how they react. Just as predicted, they are not fleeing.

He glances over his shoulder, towards his comm officer.  
“Open a channel to the Tempest.”

“Yes, my lord!”, this woman responds, before she quickly follows his orders.

Soon enough, the sight of the New Empire’s fleet is joined by the hologram of a familiar twi’lek. Zal’riva stands in her heavy armor with the grey coat and her hands on her hips, an expectant look in her eyes.  
“It appears you were right. They are going for the strike after all. A foolish attempt.”

Zal smirks at him and her lekku coil in a manner that probably displays some amusement, although he cannot be sure. His knowledge of this type of communication is limited.  
“Told you so, didn’t I? But we both know why they’re actually staying – they’ve detected you.”

Marr stops for a few moments, simply staring at the hologram. Or that’s what everyone else can see, anyhow, as the mask hides any facial expressions.  
“I still believe this plan is reckless.”

“But you didn’t have a better one, so it’s what we’re going with.”

“I could have thought of one, if you gave me more time.”

“We didn’t have any, Marr. They weren’t going to wait until you’ve drank a few cups of tea and ruminated on the subject. They want to eliminate the Empire’s foremost military leader, which was just painfully obvious, in my opinion. It was inevitable that Malgus would get too greedy.  
But don’t be afraid, Marr. I’m sure your dozens of ships will be enough to protect you until I’ve dealt with the enemy.”

Marr merely shakes his head, but she can guess that he’s probably doing more beneath the mask. He doesn’t enjoy her sense of humor.  
“I am not afraid, Wrath”, he says, highly unamused. “I simply do not believe in taking uncalculated risks.”

“With your own life, you mean. No one likes being bait, Marr, but it was your turn today.”

He sighs and folds his arms.  
“You better be swift. We will do our best to hold out for as long as possible against their assault, but we will not last forever. We don’t truly know how effective these ships are, or if Malgus’ technicians have improved them in some way.”

“I know, I know. I’ll do my best to hurry.”

Silence overtakes the situation after this, as the two fleets close in on one another. They are not quite in shooting range yet, not if they wish to strike with accuracy and it takes a few minutes to get there. During that time, the tension in both fleets grows to immense levels, making every officer and soldier nervous.  
Marr isn’t too heavily affected by it, despite sensing the fluctuations in the air, but he can’t deny some agitation. After all, this is probably the biggest clash between the two factions since the start of this civil war. In other recent conflicts, only Corellia can compare.

Shortly after Marr orders the shooting to begin and massive amounts of lights appear from both sides, as the blaster cannons release their destructive powers, vibrations are sent throughout the Searing Conquest.  
“We’ve been struck, my lord”, one of his officers tells him, “but…we can’t detect any immediate source. Sensors show cannon fire flickering in and out of existence from various locations.”

Marr doesn’t show any measure of surprise.  
“They were quick”, he comments. He had obviously expected this development – the stealth ships have arrived. “I wonder if this was in the specs or if the thruster strength has been improved.”  
He faces his sensors’ officer again.  
“It’s time to test our new scanner. Activate it.” He then lowers his voice, so only he can hear. “Let’s hope Acina knew what she was doing.”

It only takes a few moments for this device to start up and luckily, they get very quick results.  
“Success, my lord! We can detect multiple targets all around us. This should be an entire squadron of stealth ships. We count twelve of them in the immediate vicinity, several of them targeting us.”

The Councilor sees the same sight on his projector.  
“Indeed. Let us show them how ready we are for their attack.  
Prepare the starboard cannons and fire on our four closest targets, full spread.”

“Yes, my lord!”, the weapons’ officer exclaims.  


* * *

  
On Malgus’ dreadnought, they are supervising the conflict. Reports are coming in from all over the battlefield, both ones of success and ones that declare losses.  
His ship is engaged in combat as well, currently battling two cruisers which give them only minimal difficulties. When they acquired this vessel, the Emperor immediately made sure that his staff equipped it with the best shields and the heaviest weapons. It was a safety measure both against their enemies and potential resistance from within.

While Malgus is quite pleased with the current results, a message arrives from Decimus, who looks fairly shocked.  
“They’ve…they’ve detected us!”

Malgus frowns.  
“Who?”

“Who do you think?! The Conquest! They’re firing on us as we speak! I don’t know how this is possible. No old imperial ships have been able to locate us before.”

While this is indeed a rather worrying aspect, Malgus doesn’t have to consider the outcome for long.  
“I see. I believe I know what’s wrong – Acina. She was involved with the production and modification process of the stealth ships. She’s smart, knows the specifications of the design and has a wide arrangement of talented engineers. They’ve likely found a way to counter our stealth capabilities.”

Obviously, they always knew this would be an inevitability, but they hoped it would take the Sith Empire much longer. They clearly underestimated the abilities of the leaders.  
Decimus soon regains his composure.  
“We should pull out.”

Despite the irritation at a potential setback, Decimus’ words infuriate him even more.  
“No, you will not”, he sternly tells the other Sith.

“We have to!”

Malgus raises his voice.  
“This is our golden opportunity to finally end one of our strongest enemies! We can’t stop now, you have to see this.”

“We’ve already lost one stealth ship, Malgus, and two more are damaged! This might become critical if we don’t act soon.”

“I said _no”_ , Malgus reaffirms. “Keep firing. I will fly closer with my dreadnought and a few other ships. We will seal off the passage to his allies and allow you a chance to end Marr.  
Do not fail me, Decimus.”

The other Sith takes a deep breath, seeming to be on the verge of disobedience. In the end, he can’t do it.  
“…fine, but if we all fall, it will be your fault, ‘Emperor’.”  


* * *

  
The bridge of the Searing Conquest is a little bit more chaotic than that of the other flagship. The occasional minor explosion or overload occur within, due to the damage that the ship is taking, but nothing they can’t handle.  
Another call arrives from their allies, with the hologram of Zal rematerializing.

“Malgus is closing in on your location, giving us a better angle to him. We’re almost there. How are you doing?”

Marr glances over his shoulder, seeing how some of his personnel are dealing with a small fire that has erupted. The Sith lifts his hand, using the Force to remove some of the debris and make it easier for his staff to handle it.  
“We’ve taken some heavy hits from several sides, but we’re holding. I believe Malgus wishes to cut the Conquest off from the fleet, but we shall not fall for his tricks.”  
He faces Zal once more.  
“The combat formation of the stealth ships is somewhat familiar to me. It is similar to tactics previously used by Darth Decimus. I believe he may be in one of these vessels.”

Zal smirks and seems quite amused.  
“Oh? That’s interesting. You believe we’re seeing a bit of Dark Council rivalry here too?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. All that matters is the mission and I hope you realize how dire it is becoming.  
Stop stalling, Wrath, and get to it.”

His tone is quite fierce at the end, but Zal doesn’t look particularly impressed. He doesn’t scare her.  
“I’m not ‘stalling’, you fool. Have you seen how many ships they have around us? It’s simply somewhat problematic for my pilot to get through.”

“If you doubt whether you can finish this task, I can always send in another-“

She interrupts him before he manages to finish this sentence.  
“Don’t give me that garbage. We should arrive in just a few more minutes. Hold tight in the meantime.”  
Zal is about to cut the call, but stops herself before she manages to.  
“Oh, and if you get the chance, blow Decimus to bits, will you?”

Marr crosses his arms once more.  
“I promise nothing, but I shall try.”  


* * *

  
“Damage report”, Malgus demands after his dreadnought takes another hit from one of the frigates now attacking them.

The officer in charge of shield configurations looks up.  
“Port side shields have sustained a lot of damage, but nothing to the hull. We can handle it, your majesty, but not forever.”

Malgus snorts in an unimpressed manner.  
“Stop cowering and seal off the damaged areas. This is _my_ dreadnought and I will not lose until Marr is dust.”

“Y-yes sir.”

Malgus is determined to succeed here, no matter the cost. It’s not just a real victory that can be attained, but in certain ways, his reputation is on the line.  
He would have preferred to face Marr head on, in a close combat fight to the death, but that isn’t feasible here. Boarding any vessels would take too much time, so he will have to settle for destroying Marr and the Empire’s morale.

Suddenly, the ship shakes more than it did previously, and even Malgus has to grab onto a nearby console, as to not stumble around. He glares at the shields officer.  
“What now?”

“H-heavy damage to shields close to one of our starboard hangar bays, your majesty! Someone opened up a gap.”

“Seal it!”

“We’re trying, but it might not be possible unless we reduce power elsewhere!”

Before Malgus can offer a solution, the sensors officer speaks up as well.  
“Intrusion, your highness! A ship just slipped past our shields!”

Malgus stops standing by the projector and instead quickly moves over to this console, towering over his subordinate, but focuses on the screen.  
“Did you detect which one?”

With a slightly shaking hand, the man points at the right information.  
“Y-yes, at the last second. If…if these logs are correct, I believe that it was the Tempest.”

Realization swiftly surges through Malgus' head and he puts his hand on the nearby terminal, gripping it rather tightly.  
_“…Wrath.”_  
He doesn’t linger for long, as he stands up and turns around to his New Imperial Guard.  
“Commander, take care of this. Stall her long enough for us to finish our mission.”

Chondrus salutes.  
“It shall be done, your imperial majesty.”  


* * *

  
The blast doors to one of the dreadnought’s hangar bays suddenly blows open, which immediately activates the force field that keeps gravitation intact, but also allows outside vessels to go in and out.  
The Tempest takes this opportunity to fly inside and the smaller cannons around its hull fires at anything they can spot, destroying turrets, defensive barricades and some troops that were foolish enough to remain.

After the ship lands, the exit hatch opens up and Zal jumps out, draws her purple lightsaber and cuts down some of the battle droids that were on a course to the same path. She is followed by her apprentice, Lakorev, who spins around and aids her with the same act. Broonmark and Pierce are both nearby, providing assistance from afar, but not much of it is needed. Few enemies can oppose the two Sith’s united strike.

When no more enemies can be spotted in the vicinity, she raises her hand and activates the wrist comm unit.  
“Quinn, stay with the ship and be ready for takeoff once we get back.”

“Yes, my lord”, he responds. “The Tempest will remain in peak condition, I swear.”

She glances over her shoulder, eyeing the other two non-Sith.  
“Broonmark, Pierce, you guard the hangar bay. We will need a clear path for when we retreat.”

The talz raises his hand and clenches his claws.  
“We shall devour any and all enemies, master!”

Pierce only bows his head briefly.  
“Of course, m’lord, but what about you and your apprentice?”

Zal glares at the closest set of blast doors and spins her lightsaber around.  
“We shall find the so-called ‘Emperor’ himself.”

Lakorev displays a faint smile, but his voice drips with delight.  
“Sounds like fun. Regicide is definitely an intriguing career goal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So yeah, if you remember the end of Cierah's mission, about the information she obtained, this was it._   
>  _Regarding Acina's special scanner, that's an element within "Price of a sun's kiss". I...guess one must have read that fic to have predicted this outcome, but yeah. Not that it's critical or anything, but that's where it came from._


	38. Brazen path

A humongous battle rages outside, with a cavalcade of deadly colors being sent in every direction, which slam into the hides of imperial spaceships on either side. Both fleets fight for dominance over the planet nearby, an important location for various purposes, but one faction has quickly realized a lengthy struggle will not prevail. No victory can be attained here, but they can certainly make one bitter impact on their enemies, by striking at their leader.

None of this is of any concern for the duo that charges through the dreadnought at the center of the New Imperial fleet. In fact, they can’t really see or hear much of what goes on, except for the occasional vibrations after an impact on the ship’s hull.  
Zal’riva and Lakorev work together in tandem, cutting down regular troops, most of them droids, like they’re nothing. Not only are there way too few to be a challenge, but they’re not particularly organized either. This defense is only a desperate last measure in order to hold the twi’lek and her apprentice at bay, one that isn’t going well.  
The New Empire had anticipated a fight, but assumed it would occur in space. This is why any major troop transports are delayed, waiting a few sectors away for the all-clear signal.

For Zal, this is becoming an exciting event, one that gets her heart pumping faster. She’s preparing for a rematch against Malgus, one that has been overdue for far too many months. He got away once and that pissed her off.  
One may question why she’s so enthusiastic, as they aren’t exactly rivals or each other’s archnemesis. In truth, there are several reasons that she could give, but she would prefer to not acknowledge them right now. Hopefully, she can destroy him instead of thinking about it.

After Lakorev spins around and cuts down another two droids with his twin lightsabers, before using the Force to slam a third into a wall, he turns to the twi’lek.  
“The New Empire’s defenses are curious, master.”

Zal kicks one of the soldiers into a set of barricades, which knocks them out and then deflects several blaster shots from droids, before she can charge into them and shatters their bodies.  
“How so?”

“I find it strange that so many would switch sides. I get why the Sith do it, as they are naturally drawn to conflicts like this, and I do see the reasons of some alien personnel too, as they likely want freedom, but what about all these humans? What do they fight for?”

She thinks it’s interesting that he asks, as he should probably have some answers of his own, but she’s willing to indulge him.  
“It probably depends. Some might do it because they believe in gaining a new leader, some want power and rank, while others do it out of loyalty.”  
The room they’re in now seems to be clear and she gestures for them to run up to the next door.  
“I also believe that there might be some who have begun to distrust the leadership of the Empire in general. The terrorist cells from two or three years ago were proof of that.”

Lakorev nods with a thoughtful look in his eyes.  
“You’re probably right.”

“Let’s not dwell on it for too long, shall we?”

“Of course. I’m with you, master.”

Battling through a ship isn’t the easiest thing in the galaxy, especially as its so long, but it goes very well for an extended period of time. Unfortunately, it doesn’t end quite as smoothly as she may have hoped, as they don’t reach the bridge undisturbed.  
As they approach a corner close to the elevator that leads to the bridge level, Zal suddenly stops. She senses something in the air, a presence. It makes her reach out and grab Lakorev’s arm, to yank him backwards.

This is a fortunate choice, as a group with lightsabers suddenly leaps out from this very pathway, in an attempt to ambush the duo. As they avoid the first strike, they manage to get their weapons up in time to parry the frontal attacks too. There are four enemies in total and all of them wear outfits that easily identifies their allegiance – it is the New Imperial Guard. Each of these four emanate with quite an impressive amount of power.

“This is where your intrusion ends, Wrath”, says the foremost of them, the chagrian known as Chondrus. Everyone is wearing helmets, but his is differently shaped from the rest.

Zal narrows her and takes a few steps back to create some distance between them.  
“Ah, the pretender’s loyal lapdogs. Your uniforms are quite funny. Rather familiar, don’t you think?”

“We are like the Imperial Guard, but better”, he says evenly. There is confidence in his voice, but not what she would call arrogance.

She spins her weapon around in her hand, while Lakorev positions himself a few meters apart, in a way that they might be able to divide this fight equally. She hopes that her apprentice is capable enough.  
“I can sense power from you, but it remains to be seen whether you can match our troops. I did cut down some of yours quite easily last time and I somehow doubt you will surprise me now.”

“You faced no more than new recruits back then. This will be different.”

“Prove it.”

Zal and two of the guards, including Chondrus, begin to circle one another and the other two do the same with Lakorev. The twi’lek twirls her weapon around, occasionally glancing in the chiss’ direction.  
“Ready for this, apprentice?”

“Fully prepared, master.”

Chondrus utilizes a dual-bladed lightsaber, instead of two one-handed ones. He keeps his hands steady at its hilt and his eyes trained on Zal.  
“You should let your apprentice run or we will destroy him.”

Lakorev merely snorts.  
“You believe you’re better than me because you carry fancy titles and clothes? Pitiful, not to mention proof of your ghastly sense of fashion.”

It appears their enemies will wait no longer and Chondrus launches himself into Zal, followed by his companion. She parries the first blow, evades the second and then kicks the other opponent in the chest, to push them back.  
Simultaneously, Lakorev blocks a united strike from other two, which works to begin with, but these people are quick, changing angles and directions immediately and he is slowly driven back.

Chondrus proves to be a talented fighter, a Sith that could have surely been very useful in the service of the Empire, but not one that can fully match Zal’s skills. Her presence is simply too overwhelming.  
Compared to Lakorev, in her fight, she is the one who leads. They may have struck the first blow, but that is reversed in a ridiculously quick fashion, forcing them to react to her attacks.  
As usual, she utilizes a fairly unorthodox style, throwing her enemies around physically and punches them as much as she strikes them with the lightsaber. It could be seen as half-brawling rather than mere swordplay.

On the opposite side of the room, Lakorev doesn’t have quite as much luck. In the few battles that he has fought next to his master, he has shown an abundance of confidence, but he hasn’t faced many Sith. These fighters appear to be just as deadly as the name of their organization promises.  
Gradually, Lakorev is driven apart from Zal, which is probably on purpose, so that they cannot assist one another. She is obviously somewhat worried by this prospect, but she chooses to believe in him.

After she parries another strike from Chondrus and throws the other opponent to a wall with a push from the Force, she directs her attention at the chagrian.  
“How can you serve someone like Malgus, one so driven by conquest and destruction?”

Chondrus frowns and snorts at her.  
“What, you think your master is different?”

“Of course not, but I also don’t care for him. My position is a means to an end, nothing more.”

He ducks beneath her next slash, and then attempts to strike low, but she predicts the move, enough for her to jump away from it.  
“Then you lack both honor and loyalty.”

“What does loyalty matter if the one you serve is a deluded fool?”

Based on the twitch of his left eye, this seems to somehow hurt Chondrus and Zal senses further rage from within. She hadn’t really intended for this to be successful, but it was. He strikes even fiercer than before, but also too quickly. He makes mistakes, opening for her counterattacks, which is an opportunity she seizes.  
Zal delivers two heavy hits to his torso, but she holds back, using her fists instead of her lightsaber. Due to her size, strength and height, all of them being above his, she is still overpowering.

While his ally attempt to distract her, so that he can get a moment to breathe, Chondrus tries to talk with her. She is pushing them back, that much is clear, and he needs to find a way to slow her down. That’s all that matters here.  
“You wish to know why I fight for him? Because Malgus represents change. He believes in us, in aliens and humans being placed on an equal level and that the Empire should be unified.  
Are these not ideals you stand for as well, Wrath? I know the rumors about you, what people say that you have spoken of behind closed doors. You are no loyalist.”

Zal frowns and hesitates. She briefly glances over her shoulder and sees that Lakorev is currently fighting quite far away. The sound of the lightsabers hopefully drowns her voice out.  
“Yes, I do want change, to fight the status quo, but not like this.”

“What, because you deplore violence? Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?”

She deflects another assault from the other imperial guard and tosses them aside, before she strikes at Chondrus, making him retreat to another room. The elevator is not too far away now.  
“I’m not against violence, you fool. I simply have no interest in his Empire, nor his methods.  
Don’t think I’m stupid – I know he’s not doing this to create some kind of grand revolution, to specifically change the Empire for the better. He wants his own version of this nation, ruled by conquest and dominance. He will simply allow all species to follow him, nothing more. It will undo all that I believe needs to be done, progress the Empire only in one direction. We will still be ruled by a childish view of the dark side.”

As they’ve ended up in an area with more computer terminals and crates, he tries to utilize that to his advantage. Hoping to create some type of trap, he sends these items flying at her, but she easily shatters each one.  
Chondrus notices how his comrade comes up from behind, but it’s futile. Zal spins around and deflects them at the last second, knees this person in the abdomen and then elbows them in the back of the head.

Chondrus takes this as his own opportunity to attack, but yet again, her weapon is there to block him off. He can’t seem to do anything to get the upper hand here.  
“Sounds to me like you want change, but you’re not willing to stand up for it.”

“For a new tyrant, you mean? No, I bloody well won’t.”  
She manages to knock his blade away from her, but while Chondrus maintains the hold of it with one hand, his chest is open, and she kicks him back, making him hurtle to the floor. She pursues him in a slow pace, while letting her mind be open to predict the movements of the other guard.  
“If anything, I believe that the monarchy and the entire notion of an ‘Empire’ must be dismantled.”

He manages to get onto his knees, spits on the ground and wipes his mouth whiles he glares at her.  
“And what would you suggest we do instead?”

“I don’t know, but another despot is definitely not the solution.”

Chondrus only barely gets to his feet in time to block an overhead strike from her. It is so heavy that he almost falls back down.  
“I believe”, he says, his voice somewhat strained, “that it is the only way the Empire will understand.”

“I will not diminish the value of Malgus finally understanding how wrong some imperial ideals are, but he is too simplistic.”

“He could have given you a position here, Wrath, far above the others. You could’ve helped us create a new future.”

“What, as one of his pawns? No thank you. I would rather serve myself and my ideals.”

With a slight groan, he pushes her back with the power of the Force, but no more than a step, before he delivers a trio of strikes, swinging his blade around much more wildly than previously. He is getting a bit tired now.  
“Then you will fall with the rest of this broken Empire, when Malgus shatters it!”

“By the likes of you and your pathetic squad?” She snorts in an unimpressed fashion. “There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Perhaps not by me, but someone will. You are not as invincible as the Empire believes.”

Chondrus thinks that he has finally been able to distract Zal enough for his partner to hit her, but this time, they send a torn off broken pillar at her back, using the Force. Sadly, at the last second, she leaps aside and the chagrian has to do the same, as it almost collides him instead.  
As the other imperial guard falters after the failed attack, their movements being sluggish, she telekinetically grabs them by the waist and forcibly yanks them towards her. This is so unexpected that they don’t manage to defend themselves and ends up with Zal’s lightsaber through their abdomen.

Once Chondrus gets back on his feet, he sees how she lets his partner fall to the floor and lifts her blade, pointing it towards him. He’s next.  
“No one said I was, but neither is Malgus or any of you.”  


* * *

  
In the meantime, on another section of the battlefield, Marr is having more trouble than he initially imagined. The bridge of the Searing Conquest shakes with the next impact on its hull, making some officers lose their footing and stumbling to the floor. The Councilor holds onto his projector to remain standing, but he will now admit that things aren’t looking all too good. Malgus’ plan to separate this ship from the rest is rather effective after all.

“Damage report!”, he yells.

“Deck 11-A through 12-D were all destroyed in the last attack, my lord! We’re venting atmosphere!”, one of his officers respond.

“Redirect power from the aft cannons and seal it off!”

“But…but my lord, we won’t be able to defend against-“

He simply lifts his hand and points at this woman.  
“Do as I say! Send messages to the nearest ships that they must assist us immediately!”

She swallows and nods swiftly.  
“A-aye, my lord!”

They’ve taken quite a lot of damage to their shields already and while the stealth ships are not doing well either, they are relentless, Decimus especially. Zal wasn’t kidding when she suggested that they want Marr at all costs, as it appears they’re pretty much ignoring any other vessel. At this rate, they may actually be able to succeed.  
More reports of damage pour in and Marr realizes that they may have to end firing altogether, to focus completely on defenses. What good are weapons if they can’t reach their targets?

“Dark Lord”, says another, “we soon won’t have many places to drain power from anymore.”

“Then evacuate decks that are unnecessary and take the power from life support! We don’t have time to argue!”

“Perhaps if we ask some ships to take the heat off of us? It could work if they get close enough, even if it may be somewhat risk-“

Marr straightens himself and turns sharply to this officer.  
“And sacrifice them on our behalf? No, I will not. Not yet; not until I know we have lost.”

Then again, perhaps that moment has already arrived and he’s just deluding himself. He turns towards the projector again and watches the various enemy ships flying around their position. He wishes he could detect which one Decimus is commanding, as he is sure that the former Councilor coordinates the other vessels and gives them tactical advice. If Marr can destroy that man, they might be forced to retreat out of sheer chaos.

The problem lies in actually making an accurate call of which one belongs to his foe. Because that’s the issue here – Marr can only guess. Decimus has hidden himself quite well here, refusing to take a central position to mark that he’s the leader. He’s not stupid.  
Internally, as sections of the bridge overloads around him, Marr wonders if he should reach out to the Force. He rarely tries to utilize it from such a distance nor in this type of maneuver, but what other choice does he have?

That’s when he suddenly hears a gasp from one of his officer.  
“M-my lord, one…one of the stealth ships was just destroyed! It was in the middle of its stealth cycle.”

Marr turns towards her.  
“Reinforcements?”

“I…I don’t know, sir. It’s-…oh, and another two just got critically damaged!”  
She lifts her eyes to his mask.  
“It’s just one ship, my lord. It’s much smaller and quicker than ours. It appears that it can keep up with the stealth vessels.”

Marr takes a quiet breath out of relief, hoping that no one else noticed the vague motion.  
“Can you identify it?”, he asks his sensors officer. “The crew of this vessel, whoever they are, deserve our gratitude. I would consider a commendation if they can get us out of this mess.”

This man waits for results, but his expression shows quite a bit of uncertainty once they arrive.  
“It’s uh…it’s not an imperial ship, sir.”

Marr simply stares at him at first and then redirects his attention to the map. He can now see where the signal is coming from.  
“What origin?”

“Unless our sensors are completely in disarray, my lord, I…I believe it is a Republic craft.”

The Republic? Why would they come to his rescue?  
“Can you detect any other Republic ships in the system?”

The sensors officer quickly scans the region, which takes no more than a few seconds.  
“Not as far as we can see, sir.”

The comm officer stands up.  
“My lord, we’re receiving a call! I believe it’s from the same vessel.”

Apparently, someone wants to have a chat. Marr folds his arms and nods.  
“Open a channel.”  
The hologram that appears on the projector displays a woman who seems to be sitting down, probably on her bridge. The features of her body are familiar to him, but also confusing.  
“Jedi Master Ktila?”

Ktila snorts and shakes her head.  
“So, you’re the one they’re so eager to destroy. I guess it wasn’t so strange after all.  
Figured you could use some help.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The Shielded Path is here to offer assistance, unless you have something against it.”

He clenches his hands slightly, which isn’t visible to her.  
“The Republic sent you?”

“No. I sent myself.”  
She tells someone at her side something, before she clicks on a few buttons at the control board in front of her.  
“I know that Zal is somewhere on this battlefield.”

Ah, suddenly it makes much more sense.  
“Of course, you wouldn’t come here just to aid the Empire.”

“Yeah, I’m not on your side – I’m on hers.”

“For the time being, her side is mine as well.”

“Let’s hope that won’t change any time soon, then.”

Their discussion halts for several moments after this, as the Shielded Path attempts to help them turn the battle around. Some of the other Sith imperial vessels are managing to create a gap in Malgus’ blockade, to rescue their commander.  
“Two more stealth vessels are crippled, my lord”, the weapon’s officer tells him. “Another one is retreating.”

Retreating? Perhaps that is Decimus trying to flee the battle.  
“Target that vessel with any cannons we have available. Do not let it escape.”

“Yes, Dark Lord.”

As the comm is still kept intact, Ktila gets his attention again.  
“Where is Zal, Marr?”

The Councilor was standing by another console, but now turns around to face the projector again.  
“Do you see the New Imperial dreadnought?”

“You mean the biggest ship on this battlefield? Kinda hard to miss.”

“Malgus is on that ship.”

Ktila widens her eyes, facing the holographic transmitter directly.  
“What?”

“We knew he would come to this system and lured him out, so that we can eliminate him. Wrath went in there to face him.”

“Alone?!”

“No, she has her team as well.”

Ktila groans in annoyance.  
“Dammit! Kira, turn the ship around!”

Marr approaches the projector.  
“Where are you going?”

“I need to deal with this situation!”

“We can still use your assistance.”

“I’ve given you enough! I need to go help her now. Not gonna let her get herself killed for your Empire’s sake.”

Before he can respond, the call is cut short. That is one difficult Jedi.  


* * *

  
On the bridge belonging to Malgus’ dreadnought, the New Emperor watches the battle from a nearby window, while he occasionally glances on the holoprojector next to him. His plan is, unfortunately, not reaching the success he would have hoped for. It appears the stealth vessels are not enough to destroy Marr’s flagship, even with the distractions. Not only is it still intact, but the New Empire is taking heavy losses, especially since so many are forced into poor positions. Perhaps he should have anticipated this event, despite not wishing to acknowledge it.

Malgus does not intend to lose his Empire here, but he also realizes that they won’t last for long if they stick around. Perhaps it’s time to take drastic measures.  
He turns to view the zabrak in charge of internal scanners.  
“Is Wrath still on board?”

She nods curtly at him.  
“Yes, your majesty, and she’s still fighting Commander Chondrus. They’re getting very close to the elevator now, which can get her to the bridge.”

Malgus knew this wouldn’t last forever, but he figured Chondrus would be able to stall her long enough for them to succeed. To be honest, that he has held out for this long is still impressive.  
The Emperor directs his attention to the last four New Imperial Guards.  
“Go. Assist the Commander and make sure Wrath and her apprentice does not reach their destination.”  
They salute him and quickly depart from the bridge. Once they’re gone, he turns to his neimoidian comm officer.  
“Send a message down to the chief engineer. Tell her to prepare an overload of the main reactor.”

She looks at him with widened eyes.  
“Y-your highness?”

“You heard me. Afterwards, distribute a message to the other decks and tell the personnel to evacuate towards the hangar bays and escape pods. Also make sure that all other ships begin to disperse and prepare for hyperspace jumps.”

“V-very well. And Commander Chondrus?”

Malgus looks at her and furrows his brow.  
“Seal off the area. Chondrus will fight for the cause to the end. We will honor him as the one who brought down Wrath and Marr in one fell swoop.”


	39. When flags waver

Why had he ever harbored any illusions that it would end differently? There was only one path that this conflict could take. He knew who he was challenging, what the purpose of the fight would be and yet he still betrayed his own heart, sustained a measure of hope that he could be victorious. He forgets that he is a simple guard, not even a proper Lord in rank, while she may be one of the most singular destructive forces in the Empire.

With a painful groan, Chondrus slams into next wall that he’s telekinetically flung into, slides down to the floor and breaks out into a series of coughs. He lifts his hand to wipe away some of saliva over his mouth, but when he checks his hand, he can see remnants of blood as well. After his helmet was discarded by his opponent, there wasn’t much he could do to protect his head, even if she hasn’t truly aimed for it. He can feel his body aching from several wounds, though none of them are vital.

Zal’riva slowly enters the area that she has tossed her foe into, walking with confident and determined steps. Her weapon is aimed at the ground, still activated, ready to strike should she need it. Chondrus has provided some impressive opposition, but he is no match. Zal has defeated Dark Councilors, gigantic monsters, supposedly unkillable cyborgs and more; hell, she even held her own against Malgus. The chagrian was destined to fail.

Then again, victory was not really Chondrus’ purpose. All he had to do was keep Zal here for as long as possible, until his master’s mission was over and that can’t be too far away now, right? Well, not that it matters. It won’t be long until he falls either way. Zal is not unharmed, but she is in much better shape than him.  
Despite the fact that they are opponents, that they fight to the death, she does not actually look at him with hatred, but pity.

“Give up, Chondrus”, she tells him. “There is no way for you to succeed here. Surrender and I will take you back to the Empire as my prisoner.”

Not that she had much faith in this offer, but it is somewhat disappointing to see how the chagrian puts a hand on the wall, strains his legs and pushes himself to his feet, releasing an exhausted grunt during the effort.  
“I…will not be chained by the Empire ever again”, he insists, breathing heavily in the process. “I will not surrender to someone like you. Don't try it, Wrath.”

He gathers as much energy as he can muster, and unleashes a slight battle shout, before he rushes her position with his lightsaber drawn. It is a shame, but she has no choice other than to end his struggles. She easily avoids his strike, now that his weakened state has made him slower, before she delivers a hard punch to his abdomen. He almost falls over, but just barely remains standing, believing he can continue until she will be forced to kill him. This is a false assumption, however, as she grabs his wrist and twists it, causing such pain that he drops his weapon. Afterwards, she kicks him back, making him stumble and knock over two computer terminals.

“I do not enjoy one-sided fights, Berani, especially when my opponent is someone I don’t despise.”

Despite lying collapsed on the floor, he remains conscious enough to speak.  
“I…I am your enemy. You should hate me, above all else. There’s…no way I will let you through, except over my dead body.”

Zal takes a deep breath and begins pacing around the vicinity of his fall. She views his discarded lightsaber on the ground and uses the Force to pull it to her. She examines it, seeing the fine craftsmanship of the hilt and the beautiful orange-black light of the blade. Quite a magnificent appearance.  
“How did Malgus manage to gain such loyalty? What has he done to deserve your faith? What makes him better than the rest of us?”

Chondrus attempts to rise once more, but this time, the agony prevents him from going any further than resting on his knees. He’ll have to give himself a minute to recuperate. As long as Zal stays here, his mission will be a success. So far, she maintains an interest in conversation.  
“Emperor Malgus pulled me out of slavery when I was young, after my Force sensitivity was revealed. He assigned me to the local Sith academy, but made sure to keep an eye on my condition. He saw something in me, enough that he eventually took me as one of his apprentices. He made sure that I would be Sith. I will be eternally grateful for this kindness.”

Zal stares at Chondrus as the story is told, letting the similarities of it all suffuse her. She knows the feeling, yet not.  
“I was a slave as well, and the Sith brought me in when they realized my strength, but I believe you might be deceiving yourself. What makes you think Malgus wasn't simply using you for his own benefit?"

Slowly, Chondrus raises his eyes to the twi’lek’s, but there is no hesitation in them. He is certain in what he believes.  
“It doesn’t matter why he did it – he has earned my loyalty for even considering the idea. He showed me respect, neither dismissing nor giving me special treatment, making sure that I would know what awaited me in the galaxy.  
He has displayed enough that he is different, and I will serve him until death.”

“He is still human, no matter what you say. If you hadn’t noticed, there are several aliens rising to prominence in the Empire now and we will not let humans shackle us anymore. Yet you will still serve one?”

“Malgus stands for change in the Empire, while you ally yourselves with the old ways. I would rather follow a human that represents progress.”

Zal frowns and shuts off the dual-bladed lightsaber.  
“You said earlier that I have attempted to promote different ideals for the Empire and Darth Imperius is doing the same thing. You don’t think you contradict yourself a little?”

Chondrus furrows his brow and clenches his hands, but remains firm for now.  
“You are gaining nothing but small pieces of progress and making a lot of noise. What this nation needs, is a revolution.”

“But one ruled by a man who still follows the old ways of conquest and power?”  
She shakes her head and puts Chondrus’ weapon into her coat.  
“Unless I’m mistaken, there are others who have left his service, ones who were close to him. Didn’t a former apprentice of his betray him at the start of this war?”

Being reminded of such thoughts appears to anger the chagrian further, something Zal notices from the sensation filling the air. It is a familiar indignant emotion. Chondrus manages to get back on his feet, although he’s still unsteady.  
“His name was Cytharat, and if you must know, I have no respect for lowlifes like him, scum with no sense of loyalty.  
Malgus gave him everything – apprenticeship, training, an important position, promotion to a Lord, respect and a chance to build his own reputation. And how does the bastard repay his master, after several years of such aid? By stabbing him in the back at the moment of his great rise as Emperor.”  
Chondrus turns his head and spits on the floor.  
“I would never betray my master that way, to discard all notions of honor and pride. Compared to him, I live by my principles, just like you do.”

She doesn't quite know what she had expected when she chose to bring this subject into the conversation. Valcera had mentioned him to her a while ago and Zal thought it might be valuable to remember the act. Perhaps this was the wrong person to use it on.  
“I don’t know the man, so I can’t really say what’s true or not, but from what I’ve heard of him, it does seem like you’re wrong. It sounds like he has his principles, but those involve fighting for his nation, not his supposed master.”

“A crumbling nation that has no future.”

Zal lifts her hand and points at him.  
“Only because _your_ master is attempting to destroy it.”

Chondrus snorts, practically laughing.  
“You’re a fool if you believe that. It was falling apart long before Emperor Malgus chose to step up. He is the remedy to the sickness that is the Dark Council and Vitiate.”

The twi’lek advances on his position and grabs his collar. She pulls him in towards her, which he isn’t able to resist, and is just about to say something to him when they both hear a noise. It sounds like distant metal grinding against metal, but it’s quickly coming closer.  
As she turns towards one of the entrances into this section, the opening is suddenly shut by a larger, thicker and heavier blast door.

“A security door?”, she asks. “What’s going on here?”  
She looks at her opponent.  
“What’s this?”

Chondrus’ gaze is far away for the first few seconds, as if he’s realizing what has occurred.  
“Increased security measures. The Emperor is sealing the area off, probably to remove life support.”

Zal widens her eyes.  
“What? And leave you to die?”

He stares back at her, the determination returning, even if his fighting spirit does not.  
“I die for a good cause.”

Why does she always have to fight people that are so ready to perish for stupid reasons?  
“And you say that your master cares for you? You are nothing but a pawn.”

“So are you.”  


* * *

  
Almost at the same time, in another set of nearby corridors, Lakorev is in a somewhat desperate fight against the two New Imperial Guards that he was forced to face. Lakorev is definitely a competent fighter, an aspect that no one can argue against. The fact that he’s managing to hold his own against these two proves this to a certain extent, but it also cannot be denied that he’s not a full Sith yet.

The duo he faces have long since reached the end of their training, despite not being Lords, and he’s having trouble fending them off. Even some of his favorite tricks do not manage to dismantle their attacks.  
To him, this fight becomes rather tedious. Whenever he manages to locate a gap on one of his opponent, it is immediately sealed by the other guard, who interrupts his attempt and throws him off. If he is to succeed at all, he’ll have to go further, separate them somehow.

Realizing that trying to go after his master is completely futile now, Lakorev decides to cut and run. He starts off by gaining some distance from his foes, while his eyes search for a suitable alternative.  
Eventually, he enters an area filled with consoles and a fairly low roof. If he looks up, he can see that there are only a few lamps here and they are easily reachable. He turns around, shuts off his lightsabers and prepares himself for what’s about to happen.

As the duo wears a bit heavier gear than him and aren’t quite as fast, they lagged behind by a few seconds. Once they enter, Lakorev uses the Force to tear the lamps off the roof with one hand and the other pushes the button to shut the doors behind the guards, letting the room descend into darkness.  
Having planned a suitable trajectory, he lifts one console with his telekinetic abilities and sends it flying towards the guards. He can hear how one of them groans as it crashes into them.

After his plan has been set in motion, he immediately charges towards the other. With the only light in the room now deriving from the lightsaber in his standing enemy’s hand, he follows this source while keeping his own deactivated, hoping that they won’t see him until it’s too late.  
At the last second, he ignites his weapons again and manages to get a quick slash in on their left arm. It isn’t fatal, but definitely causes some damage.

They are both surrounded by darkness, which makes the fight more difficult, but Lakorev decides to go all out, driving every ounce of his strength into destroying this one opponent. They are weakened, so he feels confident that he can succeed. To make things somewhat easier for him, he also directs as many slashes towards the injured side as he can muster. That may not be entirely fair, but he isn’t fighting for honor – he simply wishes to survive.

Only a few seconds of fast-paced clashing occur between the two, making the blades appear like nothing more than a blur in this swirling array of lights. Eventually, Lakorev gains the upper hand by deflecting his opponent’s weapon and then sends a sideways slash across their waist. They gasp in pain and stumble, which gives him an opportunity. He spins around his foe and the two end up back to back. Without even looking, Lakorev thrusts his twin lightsabers backwards and pierces his opponent. The guard falls to the floor a few seconds later.

This happens simultaneously as the other enemy rises and spins their dual-bladed weapon around. Lakorev is somewhat out of breath at this point, but he still lifts one of his lightsabers to illuminate his face, showing a smirk for his second opponent.  
“Now that the other nuisance is gone, shall we finish this?”

He gets into a battle stance and prepares for a last struggle. He hopes that he’ll succeed in time to chase after his master and aid her against Malgus.  
Unfortunately, before he can do anything, the entrance on the west side of the room slides open and in the opening stands four more New Imperial Guards.  
Lakorev leaves his mouth hanging open for a moment or two, before he groans.

“…oh c’mon. All that effort and this is how fate rewards me? How is that bloody fair?”

Luckily, none of them manages to reach him before the door on the east opens up as well. Having somehow anticipated another New Imperial Guard squad, Lakorev is very surprised to see Ktila, Lord Scourge and T7 join the fray.  
The chiss Jedi draws both of her lightsabers and uses the Force to fly through the air, colliding with two enemies that are forced to desperately defend themselves against her. Following her example, Scourge charges into the other two newcomers, keeping them away from the apprentice.

Lakorev has only observed Ktila’s skills on holovids, but she is even more impressive in reality. She is exceptionally fast, her movements and weapon swings dancing around with such ferocity that they might as well be a storm of lights. The guards she faces are clearly not accustomed to such abilities and even though they try to strike back at her, she dodges all attempts while simultaneously finding gaps for her counterattacks, slowly dismantling their defenses.

In contrast, Scourge is an overwhelming power, very similar to Lakorev’s master. He barrels into his opponents using the Force and then stomps the ground, sending a shockwave of energy that knocks the guards back. While they remain on their feet for this initial clash, their situation is worsened when the pureblood bashes one with his lightsaber, practically making them fall to the ground by sheer strength. The second attempts to flank him, but Scourge deflects the attack and then sends them hurtling towards the wall with a push from the Force.

“You call yourselves Imperial Guards?”, he asks with derision in his voice. “The Emperor would be disgusted that you even dare to associate yourselves with the title. Personally, I am simply appalled that you are what constitutes as Sith these days.”

With the light from both entrances, it is possible to see the majority of the events, and Lakorev smiles as he observes how the large pureblood hammers his opponents, nodding appreciatively.  
“Now _that_ is what I call a reward.”  
Unfortunately, he cannot linger, as the last Imperial Guard resumes their duel.  
“Hey, I was watching that!”

Fortunately, with the new additions, the battle does not last for very long. These people may be Sith, but they are not talented enough to compare themselves to the likes of the Hero of Tython and the former Emperor’s Wrath. They are not yet trained to face such overwhelming challenges without their master. While Ktila may be uncertain about the need to kill them, she finds no other solution. She shuts off her emotions as she cuts them both down.

When the room settles down, with the fall of their enemies, Ktila hurries up to Lakorev.  
“Are you okay?”

At that point, the other chiss is breathing heavily and one of his arms appear to be somewhat weakened, due to a wound on the upper section.  
“Tired, but I’ll live. I’m surprised to see you. What are you doing here?”

Ktila seems to ponder how she should respond, whether to be truthful or not, but eventually settles for a simple sigh and a shrug.  
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say I…had a hunch that Zal was in danger and I wasn’t gonna leave her behind.  
Now, where is she?”  
While he opens his mouth to answer, his voice is interrupted by the sound of alarms and another noise that gradually comes closer to their location.  
Before they can react, the openings in the area are sealed shut by increased fortifications, heavier than what they saw earlier.  
“What the-…Scourge, what’s going on?”

The Sith Lord with a little bit more knowledge of such things, approaches the nearest object and surveys it with interested eyes.  
“Hmm. I believe these are enhanced security doors. An imperial ship would only employ such measures if they wanted to seal off an area. The reasons are many – containment, stopping dangerous enemies, preventing toxic atmosphere, draining life support…”

The last part makes Ktila gasp.  
“ _No!_ We can’t let that happen!” She turns to face her droid companion. “T7, do something!”

The droid, who had mostly stayed out of combat, rolls up to one of the many consoles in the area and pushes one of his tools into a free slot, which he utilizes to slice the ship’s network.  
“T7 = will unlock the doors in time. // Slicing + gaining control = might take a few minutes.”

Neither of the two Sith understood everything that he said, but Ktila nods shortly.  
“Alright, work as quickly as you can. I know you’re faster than the technicians on this ship.” Hoping to distract herself from this situation, she shifts her attention towards the other chiss.  
“Maybe you can tell us more about what happened here.”

“I suppose I can.”

Lakorev does his best and starts explaining the plan they had constructed to trap Malgus in the system. However, he gets no further than the initial space battle, before he’s interrupted by another distant noise. This sound is followed by vibrations through the floor.  
Ktila frowns.  
“An explosion? T7, where did that come from?”

The droid spins his head towards her, while his body remains static.  
“Source + distance = unknown // T7 = Cannot scan from this location.”

Of course, there probably aren’t any major sensors here. She doesn’t want to distract him with such inquiries right now anyway. She decides to activate her wrist comm unit instead.  
“Kira, can you hear me? Did you feel those vibrations?”

The other Jedi responds almost immediately.  
“Yup, I did. We started the scanners and can detect explosions from all over the dreadnought.”

“They’re being hit that hard?”

“No, the explosions are internal.”

What? No, but that would mean…  
She swiftly faces Scourge and he seems to have had the same idea, which is why his eyes are on her.  
“He’s trying to blow up the ship.”

The Sith inclines his head.  
“That is the logical decision to make, when they’re losing to this extent. He will kill both your friend and Marr.”

Dammit, there’s always something. Ktila has already shut off her weapons and now places them on her belt.  
“T7, you need to hurry! Otherwise, we won’t be able to reach Zal in time!”

“Jedi = be patient, please. // T7 = working as fast as possible!”

To prepare herself for what’s going to happen, Ktila shuts her eyes and reaches out with her mind, trying to sense Zal’s presence. This isn’t a difficult process, due to their Force bond. When she has her target, she walks up the northern door – where Lakorev came from – and waits.  
In the meantime, the other chiss approaches the taller Sith and clears his throat.  
“So, you’re Scourge?”

The pureblood scowls and slowly turns towards the apprentice. He eyes the other man, without giving away his emotions. It’s not until he arches his eyebrow that Lakorev can assume he’s skeptical.  
“Yes. What do you want?”

Lakorev smiles and bows gracefully.  
“My name is Lakorev, my lord. I’m…a fan.”

Scourge merely rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.  
“Brilliant”, he mutters.

Luckily, as T7 is an excellent and fast slicer, the lockdown is soon deactivated, and the door opens. Ktila does not wait, nor give orders to the rest – she begins rushing through the halls immediately. Scourge, Lakorev and T7 can only barely keep up.  
It appears that the droid managed to unseal the security doors through quite a large section of this ship, which means that Ktila can reach the room that Zal was trapped within in less than a minute.

In here, Zal seems to have cornered Chondrus, who is now back on his knees, and the twi’lek is standing next to another exit, attempting to carve it open with her lightsaber. She is panting somewhat, as the air was on the verge of being drained.  
With the chiss appearing in the doorway, Zal looks at her with an ambivalent gaze.  
“Ktila? I…thought I sensed you, but I didn’t think-…  
What are you doing here?”

The chiss hurries up to her girlfriend and places a hand on her arm.  
“No time to explain. Malgus has overloaded the reactor or something like that. The ship is tearing itself apart. We have to get out of here, _right now.”_

Ktila had kind of hoped that Zal would simply agree with her assessment, but it appears that the twi’lek will not give in so easily. She frowns at the intact exit in front of her, with the sign that indicates the elevator room.  
“But Malgus is up there.”

“What? Zal, you don’t honestly expect him to have stayed on the bridge in this chaos, do you? He must’ve fled at this point. You can’t complete your mission.”

Zal clenches her fist and almost appears ready to discard such arguments, but quickly realizes how foolish that would be.  
“…dammit. Fine, let’s get back to the hangar.”

Ktila is relieved to hear the concession and gets ready to depart, but maintains the hold on her girlfriend. However, a voice calls out to them before they leave.  
“Wait”, they hear from the floor behind the twi’lek and both women turn to see Chondrus on his knees. “Wrath…please”, he says, still panting. “I don’t want it to end like this. Give me an honorable death.”

His words are enough to affect Zal, but Ktila looks confused.  
“What? We don’t have time for that! We have to go.”

“No”, Zal tells her. “He has a point.”

“But Zal-“

Her girlfriend directs a stern gaze at her.  
“It will only take a moment, alright? He deserves this much from me.”

It cannot be denied how disapprovingly Ktila looks at her, but she realizes that there’s no time to argue. The Jedi lifts her hands in the air and steps back.  
“Fine, just get it over with quickly.”

Zal stops in front of the chagrian and ignites her lightsaber once more.  
“Chondrus Berani, rise.” Slowly, with strained groans and a lot of effort, he does what she asks of him, staring into her purple eyes with his own blue ones.  
“You fought well, despite betraying us. Even if I do not agree with your beliefs or your assessment, I respect you for sticking to your principles. May the Force grant you whatever you seek in death.”

She advances swiftly, thrusting her blade straight into his chest and he accepts the coming demise.  
“Thank you, Wrath. It was…an honor”, he whispers, before she pulls out her blade and lets him drop lifelessly to the floor.

Without any further hesitation, the group gets into the correct corridor that leads them back to the hangar bay and dashes forth with as much speed as they have available. Behind them, they can hear how the explosions close in on their location with a frightening rate. It’s unclear whether they’ll make it out of here in time.  
Lakorev lags behind somewhat due to his injuries, which forces Scourge to lift him up and carry him the rest of the way.

Before they reach their destination, Zal initiates her wrist comm, but uses a different channel.  
“Marr? Get out of here right now! Malgus’ ship is blowing up!”

Due to the faltering network within the vessel and the radiation being emitted from it, the signal is somewhat weak, but she can still vaguely hear the Councilor’s voice.  
“I have already noticed this development. The New Empire’s ships are dispersing, likely to jump out of the system. I’m doing my best to deal with this, but we have lost the hyperdrive. Our thrusters will not be enough to get away in time.  
I’m evacuating the Searing Conquest and I suggest you do the same, Wrath.”

Zal rolls her eyes.  
“…what do you think we’re doing right now?! We’re a little delayed, but we will make it!”

“I suppose your Jedi got to you in time, then.  
I’m quite busy, but I wish you good luck with your escape, Wrath. Let us hope we see each other after this is over.”

Another minute or so later, when the group finally reaches the hangar bay, some of the New Imperial battle droids have been dispatched to deal with the ships in here, but Pierce and Broonmark are not alone in defending their vessel. The Shielded Path stands parked right next to the Tempest, together with two lightsaber-wielding women.  
“Kira!”, Zal exclaims with a smile. “Good to see you, and-“  
She blinks confusedly when she spots the togruta next to the human.  
“…who’s that?”

No answers are given to her, as Ktila pushes her away.  
“It’s a long story and we don’t have time for it! Get on the Tempest and I’ll see you later, okay?”

Zal smirks at her.  
“As you command, my lady.”  


* * *

  
From the angle out in space, it is quite easy to see the explosions, flickering shields and dislodging plates on Malgus’ dreadnought. It is tearing itself apart and its destruction is now inevitable.  
However, this is not the only worrying aspect. The thrusters around the aft section have all been ignited at full power and with the Searing Conquest unable to jump to hyperspace, a collision now appears to be the only end for both vessels.

As the Conquest has been quite severely damaged by the previous assault from the stealth vessels, it cannot do much to resist the other flagship’s determined stride. The automated cannons that were left activated keep firing, but in the end, they will not make much of a difference. The Searing Conquest is soon fully evacuated, and all other ships have been warned to gain some distance. This event will not be pretty for anyone.

With a frightening confidence, the New Imperial flagship crashes into its counterpart, opening large gaps across its hull and spreads its destructive fire over the flickering entity of the Conquest. Eventually, a critical level is reached on both vessels and the following detonation is immense. Energy, debris and an almost vengeful shockwave erupt from the center of the battlefield. Many avoid it, but some are not so fortunate, perishing in the blast that no one had expected at the beginning of this fight. The New Empire has fled by the time its over.

Ziost is saved, but at a heavy material cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So yeah, obviously Zal made some miscalculations. She had assumed Malgus would fight much longer than he did and she also believed that she could capture Chondrus. In the end, bringing Chondrus's body with them would have slowed them down too much._   
>  _This isn't the last fight against Malgus' troops, though._


	40. Decorative details

There are few people that ever get the chance to visit the joint Nih’etat and Beniko apartment. This isn’t just true now, but also when Valcera was living there alone. It may not be entirely strange to imagine that a Sith, especially one of Val’s prominence and station, would wish to have at least one location where she can be entirely undisturbed, but for those who know her, there are likely other underlying reasons for this choice. That said, the rule doesn’t apply to everyone.

As the Dark Councilor’s assistant, it’s not unusual for Francine to visit her home. Their relationship, while mostly professional, has softened into a much more personal one in the year or year and a half that they’ve worked together. Val obviously respects Fran for all she does and due to the assignments she’s entrusted with, Val tends to be fairly open with the human, revealing private details that very few individuals are privy to.

Today, as the Ensign rides the elevator up to the top of the very tall apartment complex, she is not alone. The Councilor’s invitation was extended to both Fran and her girlfriend, as they had some important matters to discuss, although she didn’t specify what this would entail. The only aspect she could reveal was that it would relate to Simiris’ job, even if not entirely official. Val wanted this to be a casual visit and she didn’t wish to be treated like a customer.

Despite telling Sim those exact words, the cyborg has still opted for a more official attire, being dressed in a dark grey suit with a beige shirt underneath and a small pin with her company’s symbol attached to it. Fran herself is wearing a burgundy-colored sleeveless shirt and a long white skirt with star patterns across its length.  
“You know, you really didn’t have to wear that”, the assistant comments. “This is an off-hours get together, not a house call.”

Sim merely shrugs and keeps her gaze on an item in her hand.  
“That may be true, but I think it’s still worth an official appearance. Binary Star Realty expects all of their employees to act professional at all times.”

“Even when you’re not working?”

“This is still a task related to my job.”

Fran smiles and folds her arms.  
“And it’s not just because you’re trying to prevent me from dressing you up?”

Finally, Sim chooses to turn towards her girlfriend and tilt her head in a somewhat sly manner.  
“Would I ever do such a thing?”

“Tsk. Is that a rhetorical question?”

A few seconds later, the elevator has stopped at the right level and they proceed out through the door. Behind them, they can hear a small whirring sound, originating from the wheels of the entity that follows them – it’s a small astromech, that mostly stays silent, except for the occasional beep. Fran is aware that this droid is likely connected to the other device that Sim brought with her, which is a datapad she’s currently holding in her hands. Neither of these things are entirely unusual, except for the fact that the pad appears to be somewhat modified.

“What’s that display you’ve got there at the bottom?”

Sim suddenly pushes it against her chest to hide it and faces Fran with an ambiguous expression.  
“Just…a few special tools I need to use in order to complete my assignment. It has a scanner and some structural analysis applications. I always bring this, to properly accommodate my client’s needs.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting. How does it work?”

Sim offers her a playful smile and obscures the device behind her.  
“Trying to learn my secrets, so you can steal my job?”

Fran arches her brow skeptically.  
“…I work for a Dark Councilor, Sim. Pretty sure I wouldn’t need a new one.”

“You don’t know how well my employers pay me.”

The human rolls her eyes and shakes her head.  
“Do you know how much power I can have as an assistant to Darth Imperius? I doubt your position could ever be as appealing.”

“You’d be surprised. I have contacts everywhere.”

This conversation doesn’t go any further, as they finally arrive outside the door to the correct apartment. Up here, in the penthouse level, there isn’t really any other residence one can visit, but the place is large enough that the passage from the elevator has to take any guests for a longer stroll, unless they prefer to use an air speeder and land on the platform by the balcony.  
In front of the door, they see the large hulking red-skinned appearance of Khem Val, guarding his master’s lair as usual. He isn’t required to be here, but he usually takes the majority of the security shifts, even when she insists he needs rest.

The dashade inspects both of them, but his focus sticks to Sim. The cyborg doesn’t particularly react to his very stern and almost hostile gaze.  
“What do you want?”

His tone is harsh, although it’s hard to tell if the hostility is on purpose or just his normal demeanor – Fran can never tell. He has clearly begun to trust Fran after all this time, but Sim is still an anomaly, despite the fact that she visits the assistant fairly often.  
Fran steps in between the two.  
“Hey, no need to give her those eyes, Khem. This is my girlfriend, remember?”

Khem briefly turns his glare in her direction instead.  
“I know.”

“Then…you also know that there’s nothing fishy going on here, right?”

“No.”

She glances at Sim, who only offers her a shrug in return. It makes the assistant sigh, annoyed that both of them are inept at appropriately alleviating this tension.  
“Look, can you just…ring the doorbell? Darth Imperius will vouch for us.”

Despite a good amount of skepticism, Khem does as she asks. Half a minute later, the entrance slides open and Val stands inside. She’s wearing a violet and gold colored shirt and a set of black loose pants, with neither shoes nor socks. Seeing who waits past her bodyguard makes her smile.  
“Oh, there you are! We were waiting for you. Let them in, Khem.”  
Somewhat reluctantly, the dashade steps aside, and they get to enter. He releases a last disapproving grunt at the droid as it rolls past him, which makes it speed up its stride. Once the door closes behind them, Val allows them the chance to take off their shoes.  
“I apologize for his behavior. He hasn’t stopped his overly protective streak, ever since the assassination attempt. I think he blames himself.”

“It’s alright, my lord, I understand”, Sim admits.

Shortly after, Fran bows her head for Val, which Sim mimics.  
“We’re just glad that you wanted to invite us, my lord”, the assistant tells her. “We hope we haven’t gotten in your way.”

While this gesture is usually an expected part of everyday protocol, Val doesn’t seem to approve. She puts her hands on one shoulder each, pulling them both up into a straighter position.  
“Hey, there’s no need for bows in here. I didn’t invite you in any official capacity, remember? You’re here as…well, friends, I suppose.”

With that in mind, Val hugs Fran, a motion that doesn’t happen all too often, but she still returns it as best as she can. The Councilor doesn’t offer the same to Sim, but the cyborg seems fairly relieved that she doesn’t.  
“I understand, but if you don’t mind, I would still prefer to act in my professional position, my lord. After all, I assume you called me here to inquire about my expertise?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Val acquiesces with a nod.  
“True, I did. That’s not to say you have to treat me like a Dark Councilor all the time.”

“It’s hard to forget.”

Another woman in the house appears to have overheard the conversation and Lana now comes walking out from another doorway. She smiles when she spots them all.  
“Ah, Francine, Simiris, there you are.” She proceeds up to Val and stops next to her. “It’s good to have you both here. Feels like we spend far too little time together, for someone who works so closely with Val.”

“That’s true”, Fran admits. “Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever really been friends with any Sith, before I met you two and Ash.”

Val gestures at the corridor.  
“Well, let’s find somewhere to sit, shall we? We’ve prepared some refreshments in the living room.”

The guests follow their hosts and when they arrive in the correct area, they see that a lot of fine tableware has been set up, with tea, fruity delicacies and some biscuits. Nothing with meat, obviously, due to Val’s vegetarian preferences.  
While Val and Lana sit down on a smaller sofa on the far side, Sim and Fran get seated together on the longer one in the middle. The mirialan starts pouring up some tea, before she resumes the discussion.

“So, how have you two been as of late?”

Sim crosses her arms and holds the datapad close to her chest, seeming a little bit stiff. Fran isn’t as tentative and grabs some purple berries to munch on.  
“Well, I don’t think there’s much we can complain about”, the Ensign admits, “except maybe the increased workhours. We both have a lot to do almost every day, but we still try to spend as much time together as we can spare. Mostly at my place.”

Sim inclines her head in agreement.  
“It’s the comfier one.”

Fran looks a little amused at the brief comment.  
“You say that, but we haven’t exactly had much chance to be at yours. Sometimes I wonder if you’re going to come stay with me permanently.”

The cyborg turns to face her and slowly raises an eyebrow.  
“I don’t think that will be possible right now. Not until the situation around the Empire settles down.”

On the smaller sofa, Lana grabs her cup and blows on the hot beverage for a few moments, before she takes a small sip.  
“Do you have an apartment here as well, Simiris?”

She directs her gaze – or the eye implants - to the human Sith and shakes her head.  
“No, not on this world. My home is out in the colonies, but because of how much the central worlds – especially Dromund Kaas – need my employer right now, I’ve chosen to extend my stay here. There are some decent hotels in your larger cities.”

“Sounds like it would be more convenient if you simply lived with Fran for a while.”

The comment makes the assistant smile, but Sim has to ponder the prospect for a few seconds, before she can offer a sensible response.  
“Perhaps.”

As it doesn’t sound like Sim is going to elaborate, Lana continues.  
“Do you have a lot of clients right now?”

“Yes. Well, the Empire as a whole is currently one of our major costumers, I suppose. As Darth Imperius is likely aware of already, a lot of the local and regional governments have been requesting aid from our various constructional and acquisitional teams, specifically to deliver new homes and renovations. Usually, we only provide residences and household properties at a premium, but due to the damage you’ve suffered in this war, we’ve been asked to widen the extent of our services. For now, my employers haven’t protested.”

They hear an amused snort from Val.  
“Of course they haven’t. They must make quite a lot of credits from this.”

Sim shrugs.  
“I won’t deny that it’s a lucrative deal. If it wasn’t, it would be foolish to even try.”  
Their small talk continues for another few minutes or so, as all four partake of the snacks and tea, but eventually, it’s time to move to the topic at hand.  
“My lords, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know why you called us here. I assume it’s work-related.”

Val tilts her head from side to side.  
“Hmm. Sort of.”

Lana places her hand over one of Val’s, while looking at the other duo.  
“Actually, we wanted to ask for your advice about some design choices, or potential resources that might be required. We’re going to decorate our guest rooms.”

“We assume you have quite a bit of experience with both Sith and imperial arrangements, since you work in so many sectors of the Empire”, says Val.

The cyborg glances between the two of them, waiting for any further information, but they likely want some confirmation.  
“Yes, I do, but if you want my recommendation, I will have to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

Out of the other couple, it’s Lana who decides to face her girlfriend, while Val herself hesitates. She takes a deep breath and turns her gaze to the table and her half-empty cup.  
“This will require some explaining, I suppose. You see, we’re going to have some guests over in a few weeks, or at least I hope we are.”  
She lifts the cup and holds it in one hand, while running a fingertip at the top, following its circular form in a contemplative manner.  
“There are a few women that I met several years ago, who I would call my earliest friends. In fact, they might even be seen as my family. We endured some rather…harrowing things together, in the past.”

She isn’t going to get into details, of course, and they wouldn’t expect her to. Everyone knows where she comes from – the scars around her neck are enough to expose the truth.  
“Alessa and Vy’nel, right?”, says Fran. “I remember transferring some mails from them.”

Val nods curtly.  
“Yes, those are two of the people that I intend to invite. However, this time, we’ve been trying to persuade a third woman to join them, called Lashae.”  
Val seemingly disappears for a moment, her eyes going distant and drift over to one of her windows. Whatever she’s thinking about, it’s likely not the most pleasant of memories.  
“During our time together, it’s possible to say that she was both my closest friend and the one I argued with the most. We disagreed about a lot of things and yet we were very protective of each other. She was…”  
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head sharply, before she can proceed.  
“Anyway, when I finally freed them, she was initially very glad and grateful for the outcome. She was hopeful for the future, as she assumed we’d all be departing together.”

In another small pause, Fran decides to make a careful comment.  
“But…that didn’t happen, did it? You joined the Sith academy.”

Val furrows her brow, eyes aimed at the tea, watching her own reflection.  
“Yes and she did not approve. She kept alternating between disbelief and anger, being furious at me for choosing to stay with our captors. No argument I provided managed to convince Lashae and when we finally separated, it was not at the best of terms. I don’t blame her, of course, but…I miss her. I’ve tried to send lots of messages, even call her, but she refuses to speak with me. At least, until recently.”

“You changed her mind?”

The mirialan shakes her head.  
“No, but Vy and Alessa did. They reached out to her again and Lashae has finally decided to give me another chance. I couldn’t find Didani or Joomas, but the other three are coming for a visit.”  
As she has gotten through the hardest parts of the explanation, Val redirects her eyes at their guests.  
“For this reason, we’ve decided to reorganize the apartment a bit. There are certain areas that I haven’t attempted to do much with, and perhaps it’s time to change that.”

Lana crosses her legs and wraps one of her arms around Val’s waist, seeming somewhat amused.  
“You know, it’s still funny to me that you have so many empty rooms. How long have you been living here now? Two or three years?”

Val exhales heavily.  
“Well, I…I just didn’t see a reason to, you know? I used to live here alone, and I don’t usually like having guests over. There wasn’t any point in furnishing several unoccupied rooms.”

“Until now”, says Sim.

She looks at the cyborg and nods in concession.  
“Yes. But you see, this isn’t just any sort of task either. I want to accommodate a group of women who matters to me a great deal. They have to be able to feel at home, without constantly being reminded of where they are.”

“Which might be difficult, if they decide to look out a window”, Lana remarks.

Val snorts and pokes Lana’s nose.  
“Yes, thank you for that very astute observation, dear”, she responds sarcastically, making Lana chuckle. “At any rate, that’s why we need your help, Simiris. I sort of know what I want already, as I have lived the same life as they did, but I’m not an interior designer. Your insights would be valuable.”

With her task explained and her goal set, Sim rises from the sofa and begins wandering around the room. She casually taps away at her datapad, while her implants drift across every section of the vicinity.  
“Well, I am certain I can find some suitable suggestions for you, my lord, if you give me a chance to scour your quarters. I would need my droid assistant, C48-J, to scan, record and take notes about everything I see as well, to properly fit your request. I hope you don’t mind.”

They hear how the astromech beeps in binary, but they don’t quite catch what it says.  
“Oh, not at all”, Val says. “Go ahead.”

Sim wanders over towards the entrance of the room that leads into the outer hallway, her eyes constantly sweeping her surroundings, while her hand continuously clicks on the datapad.  
“I can already say that your design is fairly anti-imperial – as in, it is a lot milder than most Sith choose to arrange their homes. As for the décor in your guest rooms, especially for someone like this Lashae, I would suggest following patterns that conflict with imperial standards - no red, black or grey. Perhaps aim for combinations of brown, beige or gold, possibly even blue, if the Republic is a comforting prospect. Always enjoyed that color myself.  
Also, I would suggest less jagged structures and austere craftsmanship. Then again, you can’t plant too many items either – we don’t want her to feel trapped. Some art may be desirable, likely foreign in origin. As Binary Star Realty has a galactic reach, I could contact some of my colleagues in other departments, see if they can offer some suitable options.”

Most of what she says seems to intrigue the mirialan, but Lana is in a much more dubious state.  
“…not sure I want to decorate my home with Republic designs.”

“I’m not saying you have to, miss Beniko. I’m only proposing some alternatives. You may choose whichever you desire.”

Val smiles and grabs her girlfriend’s hand, squeezing it gently.  
“Now, let’s not be so hasty, dear. We’re just talking.  
Thank you for your offer, Simiris – I believe I’d like that. I want Lashae to be as comfortable as possible, and I’m confident you can help us.”

Sim bows her head.  
“You shall have all I can provide, my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Not sure if anyone remembers that stuff, but Alessa and Vy'nel appeared in "Through passion's gateways". The other three were mentioned, but never appeared - until now, that is._


	41. Embodiment unguarded

Morning on the Shielded Path, or at least the time of day when some of the team wakes up and prepares themselves for what’s to come.  
It’s a little rare for Zal’riva to stay on this ship for so many interrupted hours, but she doesn’t really have any complaints. Ktila visits her vessel often enough and it’s only fair that Zal accommodates her girlfriend’s preferences too. At this time, she’s waiting while she brews a pot of caf, with arms folded and her back leaning against the counter. She doesn’t usually drink this stuff, but surmises that she’ll need it today.

After the battle over Ziost, Ktila decided to stick around and on her request, Zal came on board to let the chiss tend to her. It allowed Ktila to feel good about treating her girlfriend's injuries, while Zal herself could enjoy the intimacy.  
Sadly, she likely won’t be able to stay for long. The Ministry of War needs to debrief her about her activities and she has to get back to the fleet eventually. As she’s still pretty tired after having a lot of fun the night before, she figured that caf was the quickest way to jumpstart her alertness.

Once the machine is done, she pours some of the dark liquid into a cup and prepares to leave, but she never quite gets that far. She suddenly senses another presence coming in her direction, one with strong ties to the Force. Based on the nature of the essence, she doesn’t need to guess who it belongs to.  
Slowly, Zal turns around towards the doorway and as it slides open, she spots none other than Lord Scourge. Compared to his usually rather heavy armor, he is dressed in no more than a black coat and simple grey clothes underneath.

This is not the first meeting between these two, as they have encountered one another on a few occasions, but it might be the first time that they’re actually undisturbed by others. Not like they haven’t had the chance before, but the innate tension between them has prevented either from exploring the potential. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that neither of them has desired this confrontation. It’s easy to see how they might clash.

To begin with, both of them simply stare at one another wordlessly, but it’s not like they have no interaction whatsoever. Red eyes gaze into purple ones and the Force swirls around them, testing the mind of the other. It might seem silent, but to those with the knowledge, it is more akin to two raging storms colliding.  
After several seconds of nothing else, Zal is finally the one to break the muted quality, as to not let the tension linger for too long. That is, if words will even help.

“Scourge, right?”

The pureblood lifts his thick arms and folds them over his chest. He’s a bit bigger and taller than her, she can't deny that.  
“Pretending to not know my name?”

Zal snorts briefly and shrugs.  
“Wasn’t sure if it’s your name or what you are.”

He rolls his eyes in return, not impressed with her sense of humor. He begins to stride into the room, taking no more than a few steps. The door closes behind him.  
“I still find it peculiar that my old master would pick someone like you.”

“You mean someone so beautiful, charming and martially impressive?”

“I was thinking more of the alien part, actually.”

She exhales through her nose.  
“Of course you were.”  
She turns to study him again, but his eyes appear to have drifted away.  
“Do you disapprove, then?”

“Not at all. If aliens bothered me, I wouldn’t have followed Ktila for so long.  
However, Vitiate has always been a rather hateful individual. One of the only reasons that slavery remained intact and unchanged in the Empire for so long, despite the system’s many fallacies, is because Vitiate commanded it.”

While she views him, she moves her hand around the cup of caf, feeling its warmth. She could leave, but as this is not at a temperate that she fully enjoys yet, a few more minutes can’t hurt.  
“I wonder if hate was really the only motivator. I have a feeling that a certain wish for dominance affected him as well, that he wanted to foster this mindset in his people and conceal dissent.”

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that he wanted to see aliens of all varieties be subjugated. That is why it is curious to me that he would suddenly choose a twi’lek as his Wrath. It doesn’t match his previously stated belief.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he is simply doing it all to manipulate us. That is in his character.”

Scourge continues further into the room, towards a side where there’s a window to the stars. Zal takes this chance to observe him while she blows on her caf. Her investigation is both mental and physical.  
He is a handsome man, she won’t dispute that; in this regard, Lakorev certainly has a point. If she wasn’t so attached to Ktila, or didn’t distrust him so much, she would probably consider flirting and possibly sleeping with someone like him. It seems unlikely that he’d return that interest, though.

In terms of his Force capability, he is clearly surrounded by an impressive amount of power. She can feel it emanating from him, much stronger than it did in Chondrus, any of the New Imperial Guards and even some Dark Councilors.  
But who would be the most overwhelming between her and him? That’s harder to speculate about, as the difficulty lies in detecting exact levels of strength, outside of combat. Doing so at a glance is rarely useful and she does not wish to force them into a hostile situation, simply out of curiosity. Though, if he did, she would defend herself without question.

The only aspect she has problems with sensing in him is emotions. She doesn’t feel much from him at all, except an underlying unease. There’s no strong presence of anger, distaste, hatred or anything else. Perhaps this disquiet notion is all he welcomes right now.  
She has stood in Vitiate’s presence before and it’s thankfully very clear that these two are not the same. Vitiate was a void, while Scourge is a blur, at worst.

It’s hard to tell how lengthy this second silence is, but Scourge does eventually turn to face her again.  
“Vitiate clearly couldn’t have trusted you a whole lot, as I can sense the lack of his essence in you. It’s not completely absent, but it is not as prominent as it tends to be within most of his servants. We are often connected in that fashion.”

Zal shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Good, because I don’t really care for it. In fact, I’m relieved that he has left me alone.”

The pureblood narrows his eyes as he stares at her, maintaining the physical distance between them. Mentally, it feels like he circles around her.  
“Do not become complacent, ‘Wrath’. Just because he has not attempted to strip you of all that you are, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t exerted a certain measure of control.”

Zal frowns back at him, clenching one of her hands.  
“That will never happen. I will not become enslaved to that creature.”

“What makes you think you will have a choice? You underestimate him, what he’s capable of.”

Taking a moment, she lifts her caf up and has a sip, feeling the warmth of it wash through her. Simultaneously, she continues to gaze at the pureblood, not letting him believe she’ll surrender or prove him right. There’s a table in between them, but the way his eyes remains interlocked with hers, not wavering and never blinking, makes it feel as if he’s standing right in front of her. She briefly wonders how Ktila could’ve endure his presence for so long.

“I find it rather amusing that you would be so arrogant regarding this subject. You were the Emperor’s servant for a long time, no? Probably more than any other. Sounds to me like you simply couldn’t resist him.”

He waves dismissively.  
“You don’t understand. My time under the Emperor’s thumb was by choice, to watch over him. I needed to be vigilant, in order to make sure that he followed the plan we concocted and kept the Empire from invading the Republic for as long as possible.”

“Well, then you failed, didn’t you? The clash ended up being inevitable.”

He snorts sharply.  
“Did you not hear me? I said ‘as long as possible’, not forever. I knew the peace would eventually fall apart and I prepared for that outcome.”

This is something she has heard and read about before, which coincides with those sources, at least for the most part.  
“So it’s true what the rumors and certain reports say, then? You were involved with Revan?”

“I was and we both had an interest in locking the Emperor away. Sadly, we came to realize this was an impossible task, at least at the time. My chosen path was the only temporary remedy to our dilemma.”

“Then why did you suddenly change your mind and follow Ktila?”

He watches her for a few seconds, before he tilts his head.  
“She has told you already, no?”

“She has, but I’m not sure I believe it.”

“You don’t trust her.”

A statement, not a question. Zal furrows her brow and lifts her hand to point at him.  
“I do, but I don’t trust _you_.”

Scourge lets those words linger in the air for a short while, before she sees how something glints in his eyes. Amusement? He doesn’t smile, at least.  
“Perhaps you’re not as stupid as you appear to be.”

“Careful. I’m not as nice as they say either.”

Apparently seeing no reason to continue watching her, he turns away again, slowly pacing across his side of the room.  
“Regardless, it’s true. I saw Ktila in a dream, a vision, many centuries ago. It was during a time when I was involved with Revan and her allies.”

Zal hesitates with her response, as this wasn’t quite what she had heard from Ktila. Well, not in those exact words, anyhow.  
“Really? But she said-  
You expect me to believe that you saw her in a dream so long ago and that’s why you decided to wait by Vitiate’s side for her to be born?”

“I don’t care what you believe. I know what I saw and my instincts since then have not led me astray. I still have faith in this truth.”

“But Vitiate isn’t dead.”

“ _Yet_. But he will be and Ktila shall be the one who will strike him down. I have seen it.”

Zal shakes her head. She has heard a lot of people spouting nonsense with confidence and it appears this man is one of them.  
“You don’t think you’re a bit too self-important? You truly believe that you and you alone have received visions that proves the direction of the galaxy? That the enemy of our existence shall die because _you_ said so?”

Gradually, Scourge turns to face her, showing no doubt nor frustration at her insinuations.  
“I do, but I do not assume it’s my prerogative. For whatever reason, the Force guided me to this stage and I have not yet found an argument to doubt this fact, nor to stray from the vision’s promise.”

“That is not just foolish, but presumptuous. I don’t doubt Ktila’s strength, but I think it’s rather implausible that she can do all of this on her own. Vitiate would be dead by now, if she could.”

While he doesn’t smile or show that he agrees, Scourge does nod in a somewhat appreciative way.  
“You may be Sith after all. You might not act like one, but you certainly show the skepticism of a Sith.”

She holds up a hand in his direction.  
“I don’t care for your praise. I don’t like you and I certainly don’t want to be associated with you in any way. However, I will be courteous enough to reiterate that I don’t trust you.”

“Good. I wouldn’t trust me either, if I was in your position, nor do I trust you now. In fact, I’m rather surprised that the Emperor’s Hand does.”

Zal raises her brow, with some semblance of interest. She was going to criticize him some more, but this angle is compelling too.  
“I guess you spent a lot of time dealing with them as well?”

“I did, but I never let them shackle me as fiercely as you have. They are nothing more than scurrying zealots, begging at their master’s feet for scraps. They are pitiful and beneath me.”

She isn’t all too eager to disagree with him on that topic, even if she knows that nothing is this simple.  
“I haven’t really had much choice up until recently. Their approval was the only way for the Empire to entrust me with the position I’ve gained.”

“A reasonable way to think, but I still believe you should’ve done better. At least you got rid of Baras. If you hadn’t, I would’ve wondered how you’ve even survived this far.  
In fact, that’s another element you have come to accept too readily – you trust too much in the Dark Council. Nothing but disaster can come of this.”

She grabs her cup once more, swallowing another large chunk of it, before she licks her lips and continues.  
“I need allies if I am to succeed.”

“The Dark Council should never be considered as allies. I kept them at arm’s length at all times, and that’s what any sane person would do.”

Zal could explain to him how things have changed, how life and people are never as simple as he’s trying to make them, or how she would be nothing without the aid of Valcera, or even Marr and Vowrawn. But, to be honest, she can’t be bothered to argue with someone like this anymore.  
She grabs her cup and begins to stroll towards the door.  
“I’m not interested in your advice. I can survive on my own without words from a failed warrior.”

She doesn’t notice how he frowns, but he doesn’t make that obvious to her either. She can detect a fluctuation in his emotions, though, a surge of fury. It is only fleeting.  
The door slides open upon her approach, but before she departs, his voice calls out again.  
“You are lucky, you know.”

The twi’lek stops halfway through her first step outside and glances over her shoulder.  
“In what way?”

He pauses for a second or two, prior to revealing his intent.  
“With Ktila, of course.” His tone is somewhat softer now. “That she chose you is a prospect that many would probably envy. I have seen and sensed what the men and women she has run into have felt. Many have smelled of desire and lust, of possessing her, but none have been able to convince her of their prowess. You appear to be the sole person able to draw her interest.”  
He shifts around to face her again, his gaze being more contemplative.  
“I know of your bond by now, that it is unmistakable. In certain ways, it’s likely why she ended up leaving the Jedi.”

This is a perspective Zal hadn’t really considered. She doesn’t really view herself as some kind of chosen by a popular woman, certainly not someone who is in control. That’s not what either of them should be. She slowly walks back into the room, putting the cup down on the edge of the counter and watches him curiously.  
“This includes you, doesn’t it? You want her too.”

Scourge stares quietly at her, almost not moving at all. Did she finally find something he will refuse to answer, where his unyielding confidence has no place?  
“I feel nothing.”

“But you want to. You want to be able to feel, so that you can have her, be with her. And yet, you know this longing is not mutual.”

He frowns now and turns away.  
“You understand nothing about me.”

“Not true. I may not be you, may not know you, but I understand where you’re coming from better than you think.  
Your very existence is built on sacrifice, on stripping yourself of everything for the cause of others. A certain measure of martyrdom is inherently a part of that belief, as is jealousy.”

Further emotions enter the air now, ones that she can detect and comprehend. He’s not as bereft of them as he claims.  
The other Sith gives himself a moment to recuperate, but he doesn’t look at her again. Neither can deny the recognition.  
“Like I said, you’re lucky. You are not me, have never had the misfortunate of being ‘blessed’ in this fashion. Cling to that fate and hope it never changes. You won’t want to know what being the Wrath is really like.”

And without another word, Scourge departs the room, as quickly and abruptly as he previously arrived. Zal remains for a little while, analyzing what he said. Can he ever truly be trusted? She doesn’t feel like she has the answer to that question yet.  
The door doesn’t close completely, as another person walks through it after the pureblood and Zal sees how Lakorev enters the room. Their two ships are connected, so it’s an easy to walk back and forth. The chiss likely just came from the Tempest.

“Master”, he says, with a brief bow of his head. “Marr just called. He wants to speak with you about an important subject.” He glances over his shoulder. “Did you just chat with the original Wrath?”

“I did.”

“I see. Was it…illuminating?”

Zal inhales and holds that breath for a second or two.  
“Quite so. I don’t believe we’ll be having too many of them.”

“Hmm. More’s the pity. Mind if I give it a try?”

She merely snorts and grabs her cup again, returning to her previous route, which shall lead her to Ktila’s cabin.  
“Sorry, I doubt you’re his type.”

“I won’t know until I inquire.”

“No, I’m fairly certain. Trust me on this one, apprentice.”


	42. Elected disorder

It’s difficult to say that the Dark Council has ever had a schedule. It’s not that they don’t plan their meetings way ahead of time and try to establish a fairly regular process, they undeniably do. Most of them even communicate almost daily, in order to deal with more mundane tasks.  
The main obstacle is the assemblies on Korriban and whether or not each member will follow what has been dictated, which often varies and can disrupt the steadfast nature. Power plays, quarreling, distrust, distractions – all of them intermingle to create a formula that complicates and invalidates unity. This was partially true in the past and certainly more so now when they’re not even at full strength.

This is why major meetings in the Dark Council are usually given a date which one can sign up to and if a majority attends or at least connects holographically, they go through with it. If not, someone will propose another one, until the requirements are fulfilled.  
In the past, it was rare for there to be any extended time gaps. The majority of Sith obviously want to influence their Empire and the Dark Council is the primary location for this purpose. If you don’t attend, rivals will undoubtedly try to sabotage your plans, or you might miss out on important deliberations, which is a huge disadvantage in various circles. They become incentivizing components that encourages participation. They also used to have the Emperor who could force the Council to convene – either you go or you die.

The incentivized nature of the Dark Council has diminished lately. It’s still quite important that they gather and decide the fate of the Empire, of course, now more than ever, but most Sith leaders find themselves in a whole array of difficult scenarios. Since the New Empire was created and chaos increased across their territory, all Councilors have had to deal with an abundance of problems which slows them down. Without the Emperor, there’s also no threatening presence lurking over them.

Today is the first full meeting of the Dark Council since Malgus’ secession and even if they’ve had less than a handful of other ones up until now, not much has been accomplished. This one will hopefully change this trend.  
Not everyone could be physically present for this occasion either. Vowrawn, Marr, Imperius, Ravage and Mortis all came in person, while Acina, Karrid and Arvade had to be connected through holoprojectors.

Talks have already begun and at this time, the session has moved onto the subject of manufacturing and personnel.  
“Unfortunately”, Vowrawn continues, “due to the increased migrations across the Empire, production rate has been hampered. The culprits are not hard to identify of course, as not only refugees fleeing to central worlds are one of the causes, but also certain shifts in our societal structure. The reduction of slaves, relocation of citizens and lack of space are some of the issues that have decelerated us.”

On the other side of the room, Ravage frowns, places his elbow on the armrest of his chair and strokes his fingers around his cheeks. Neatly shaved as always.  
“Sounds to me like the problems are mounting up for you, Vowrawn and I have a feeling that a _certain someone_ can be blamed for ardently moving us in an inconvenient direction.”

Four seats away from Vowrawn, the only mirialan in the room glares at him.  
“Don’t start, Ravage! What I’m doing will ultimately make the Empire better and stronger. You don’t understand how hampered you are by your narrowminded viewpoint. If you would let me decide, we’d end this crippling system altogether right now! Eventually, that will happen. This Council and the nation as a whole, will have to accept that slavery only shackles us to archaic, cruel and ineffective designs. For over a thousand years the Emperor maintained this ideology and yet are we any closer to the victory that was promised?”

The human returns Valcera’s gaze with almost equal ferocity.  
“Delirious as always, huh? And how exactly will you improve our situation by letting everyone flee from where they’re needed?”

Val raises her hand and starts counting on her fingers.  
“Replacing their work with automated systems, removing the compounds and building new homes and factories, education for the freed and new citizens which will eventually lead to increased personnel in administrative and creative fields, provide funding for their business endeavors which can open new avenues and much more. How can you not see this as a benefit?”

Ravage snorts derisively.  
“Sounds to me like you want to strip us of all that makes us Sith! Who do you think you are anyhow? The Sphere of Production and Logistics does not belong to you.”

“Nor you! And if you actually performed your role correctly, we could create new trade agreements and open transport routes to the rest of the galaxy, so we aren’t sealed off on our own.”

He points sharply at her.  
“Shut your mouth! Do not tell me how to do my damn job! You are no more than a child next to me!  
And where would you propose we get all the machines for this grand automated system of yours? We do not have a surplus of droids for such purposes and definitely not the time to create them.”

He does sound pretty confident in this instance, but Vowrawn clears his throat to get their attention.  
“Actually, this is a mistaken perspective, Ravage. It’s not perfect, but many parties in the Empire have already begun such a journey. Both companies and individuals have started investment and research in many fields. This is seen especially on Ziost and Bosthirda, led by families like Beniko, Evintok, Virtaam and Svalashi, as well as organizations like the Irranaro Institution, the Great Echatak Foundation and Ziost Automaton Industries.”

Despite this information, Ravage merely waves dismissively.  
“It won’t be enough, and it won’t alter the truth. If neither of you had noticed, we are in the middle of a war, being hounded by two factions at once! We do not have time, resources, nor the strategic security to be idealistic. If you truly want to confer regarding change, wait until we’ve won.”

Val slowly shakes her head, displaying the kind of expression that reveals her distaste.  
“That’s convenient, isn’t it? Just keep postponing a better future until an undisclosed time. And when will this war even end, Ravage? When you say so?”

He’s on the verge of giving her a response, but Marr interjects.  
“Do not worry about the war, Ravage. Certain measures are currently being explored that will reinforce our defenses and potentially alter the entire fate of this conflict.”

These words are quite impressive and filled with weight, but Marr doesn’t actually provide any satisfying answers. Ravage starts to look rather suspicious.  
“And what exactly are these measures? Why would you be so confident that they can succeed? Have you found some new allies somewhere?”

“I cannot give you any detailed information as of yet, but a new substance has recently been discovered, which has a lot of applicability upon our weapon systems, engine capabilities, shields, power usage and more. They call it ‘isotope-5’. That is all I will say.”

“That’s not enough!”, Ravage exclaims. “You think you can just give us vague promises and proceed? What do you know of this substance? What makes you so certain it will be some kind of savior?”

“Our researchers and engineers are still studying and theorizing regarding the details, which is why this is all I can yield. Acquisition has also proven to be…problematic. Once I know more, I will reveal it.”

Ravage raises his arms into a dissatisfied shrug.  
“And what, we’re just supposed to sit and wait until you determine the nature of this ‘miraculous’ substance?”

“I never made such a statement. If you wish to dawdle about, Ravage, feel free to continue with this task. I’m sure you’re accustomed to it by now.”

“How dare you?!”

Suddenly, from the seat on Ravage’s left, Mortis slams his hand on his armrest to get their attention.  
“Enough!” It’s somewhat rare for him to raise his voice, as he’s usually one of the calmer and more evenly spoken Councilors. It appears he’s not satisfied with this progress.  
“Cease this pointless bickering. Your disorder will do nothing for the Empire nor the Dark Council. We should stay on schedule.”

“I agree”, says Arvade from the far-right seat on Ravage's side of the room. “Isn’t it high time we move on to the real matter that we’re all here for? I’m not getting any younger and I deplore stalling.”

As the oldest member of the Council, most do have respect for this pureblood, even if not everyone subscribes to her opinion.  
“Very well”, says Marr. “News and production shall have to be postponed, while we move onto the foremost issue on the table – choosing the next leader for the Sphere of Military Offense.”

“Don’t sound so immensely excited, Marr”, Ravage states sarcastically. “I know you’ve been just _dying_ to share the responsibility of leading the military and not be its sole commander anymore.”

Marr’s mask turns towards him, but he doesn’t say anything. They let Mortis take over instead.  
“I believe we can all agree that Darth Marr has done an admirable effort so far, in these most trying times, but it is clearly difficult for one Sith to control so many forces at once. We need a replacement for Malgus, now more than ever, one that can aid us in turning the tide against either of our opponents and soon.”

“I doubt we need to present the candidates to any lengthy degree, yes?”, says Valcera. “We’ve already had enough forum discussions, mail chains and holocalls about them – Arho, Soverus and Arkous. Those are the ones we’re dealing with.”

Vowrawn smirks at young woman almost on the opposite end of where he’s seated.  
“But my dear Imperius, discourse about these topics are the most intriguing and entertaining part.”

“I thought you had enough of those in private with Marr already.”  
Val senses how the heavily armored man on her left slowly twists towards her and very likely glares at her, but she doesn’t meet his gaze.

“While this may be true”, Ravage agrees, “I believe a proper debate is required, so that we can all make an informed and correct choice.”

Val now directs her eyes towards him, her scowl returning.  
“Don’t give us any of that nonsense, Ravage. You mean the one most inclined to your perspective.”

He straightens the stance in his seat and corrects his robes.  
“I won’t deny this fact, nor that I believe it’s the best one. You have already shown your desire to hamstring the Empire completely. It’s time we avert such madness.”

Arvade isn’t physically present, but they can see how she leans back in her seat and folds her legs. She’s likely on a more comfortable chair, wherever her physical location is.  
“I’ll agree there is one more interesting candidate than the rest, for my general view of our development.”

“Quite so”, they hear Karrid saying, opening her mouth for the first time in several minutes since this meeting began. She’s sitting next to Val, opposite Marr. “But I believe we must pick the one most suited for this position, not our beliefs.”

Mortis exhales through his nose.  
“And I say that Imperius was correct. We’ve already had these discussions in a multitude of protracted ways. Let us shorten the procedure and come to a decision.”

 _“No”_ , Ravage fiercely insists. “Doing so at this point would lead nowhere. In fact, our previous debates have proven how divided we are. This is the perfect place to lay forth our arguments in a more concise and appropriate fashion.”  
He doesn’t see it, but Mortis rolls his eyes.

Luckily, Marr raises a hand to get their attention.  
“That will not be necessary. While many of you are splintered regarding what the best path for the Empire should be, four of us are united in our choice.  
I vote for Darth Arkous.”

Val folds her arms and smirks.  
“I vote for Darth Arkous.”

Next to Karrid’s hologram is one of Acina. She hasn’t said much so far, but she has also appears to be slightly distracted by work. She looks up from some kind of datapad now.  
“My vote goes to Arkous.”

“And I, of course”, Vowrawn states amusedly, “place my humble vote upon Darth Arkous capable shoulders. He is the right and only route for the Empire’s offensive prowess.”

Three of the four remaining Councilors look somewhat surprised and a little suspicious of this act, but don’t immediately make any protests. Ravage is the only exception.  
“Foul play!”, he screams. “You’ve been scheming behind our backs?! This is not how one should be chosen for the Dark Council!”

Val chuckles.  
“If by ‘scheming’ you mean ‘came to a rational decision’, then yes, definitely.”

“Rational!? Arkous will clearly weaken us on every front! His idea of offense is to prioritize _defense_ and a passive attitude! How can you deem this as a logical outcome in any way?!”

Karrid crosses her arms and frowns slightly.  
“Hmph. It’s a bit unfair that you have united like this to gain the advantage…but I suppose that is within the Sith mentality. You aligned in secret to gain victory and I respect that.”

Arvade ponders this thought for a moment, before she nods.  
“I will concede to this argument. Two of you made your opinions abundantly clear, while the other duo did not, giving the rest no reason to craft alliances. Well played.”

“Well then, I suppose the decision is practically made?”, asks Vowrawn. “Unless the rest of you have something else to add.”

“You do have the majority”, Mortis agrees. “It is what we concluded to be the best approach to solve this matter.”

That’s when Ravage stands up from his seat, fury still very blatant on his face.  
“Stop right there! We will not end it like this, for you evidently _do not_ have a majority! The discussion cannot be settled without an uncontestable winner and there are eight of us – four is not a majority.”

Marr shakes his head.  
“Do not continue being the fool, Ravage. Unless the rest of you can unite behind a single candidate, your complaints are meaningless.”

“He has a point”, Arvade concurs. “Unending bickering will not change the fate of-“

She’s interrupted by leader of Expansion and Diplomacy, who’s now pacing on the floor in front of his seat.  
“Which is not an impossibility! Mortis, Karrid – will you really not reconsider? You stood behind Arho during previous disputes, but surely you can see what advantages Soverus offers?”

The hologram of the falleen clenches her hands and furrows her brow sharply.  
“Out of the question. Arho is the better military leader, with much experience and the type of mindset which will grant us victory in combat. Soverus is weak.”

“That is blatantly false, and you know it! Have you even looked at his record, scanned his accomplishments? He has seized numerous victories against the Republic already and his tactics are flawless.”

“Hah! ‘Flawless’ would indicate being unable to lose. Did you see the results of the battle at Cintago? He lost four cruisers at start of the fight!”

Ravage stops for a moment, but tries to maintain his composure.  
“That was one mistake. Everyone makes them.”

“You say one, but I can count at least another two – Khavaeet and Delagos Prime among them. And he was assisting at Quesh during one period, if I’m not mistaken, where we lost much as well.”

It appears that Ravage doesn’t have much to counter with against these arguments, but fortunately, Mortis reenters the discussion.  
“I will agree that Soverus is not a bad candidate. I certainly would not mind voting for him, in order to prevent a dominant faction from forming in our Council. Then again, Arkous is a decent choice too. Both of them have calm and pondering demeanors which I respect, even if I still believe Arho is the superior battle commander.”

“Then join me behind Soverus!”, Ravage insists. “It is the wisest decision here. If we can make Karrid see reason, we can prevent those other four plotting cowards from monopolizing the Dark Council.”

From her seat, Arvade is now starting to appear exceedingly disappointed.  
“This is only obstructive. We cannot continue to be-“

Unfortunately, Val cuts her off this time.  
“You’re being a contrarian, Ravage. What’s your plan here? Is it a war you want? Do you really wish to split our Empire more than we’ve already become?”

He directs his finger towards her again, in quite an accusatory fashion.  
“I can ask you the same thing! Arkous is a weakling and a fool, one that will merely drive the Empire further down the path of debilitating submission! And with his rise, all of us can already clearly see that he will be indebted to the four of you, to grovel at your feet! You’ll control the Dark Council and I won’t allow it!”  
He raises his hands, gesturing at the three remaining Sith.  
“What of the rest of you? Will you sit here and let yourselves be silenced or will you rise with me to show that we shall not be broken by despicable spineless cretins?!”

His speech is definitely theatrical and some of them clearly feel that he’s using a bit too much steam behind it. However, it can’t be denied that some would prefer to not let one side seize victory across the board. Instead of letting this uncertainty continue unopposed, Val rises as well, although she remains by her chair.  
“The old ways have led us to nothing but misery and defeat, which has already been proven. We’ve splintered into two warring factions, the Emperor is gone and the Republic is constantly winning ground against us. If we don’t act now, our fate will be the same as the Empire Vitiate once fled from.  
Now is the time for an evolution, to discard the shackles of the past and embrace greater heights, something we can be truly proud of. Ravage’s ‘rebellion’ is nothing more than the weight of a bygone era.”

This is far from the first time Val has made this argument and while some still remain skeptical, she is having an impact on them too. Ravage opens his mouth to make another assertion, but someone else interjects – Arvade.  
“Alright, that’s enough! I’m tired of your childish quarreling. I’m changing my damn vote.”

Ravage swirls around to the old woman.  
“What?! You can’t do that!”

“I bloody well can, you insolent buffoon! I am a member of this Council and you cannot tell me what to do! I already told you that I’m getting no younger and I refuse to listen to imbeciles.”  
She focuses her eyes at Val instead.  
“You reasoning is valid, Imperius. Perhaps it is time that the Sith learn from our mistakes. I still doubt whether this election is the path to a different destiny, but I wouldn’t mind giving it the opportunity to succeed. I vote for Arkous.”

Val smiles at the old Sith and sits down on her seat again.  
“Remind me to buy you dinner later.”

“Then the vote is over”, Marr states. “The new leader over the Sphere of Military Offense will be Darth Arkous, which will go into effect immediately.”

On the other end of this side, Vowrawn looks rather sly as he clears his throat.  
“This is quite a convenient result, I must say, for we just so happen to have a guest. He’s waiting outside.”  
The pureblood accesses a small comm unit he kept in his pocket.  
“You may enter.”

The door to the chamber unseals and opens up, with another pureblood stepping inside. This man wears a set of ornate purple, gold and black robes, his hair pulled back into a neat style and a thoroughly pleased smile adorns his lips.  
Ravage widens his eyes in fury.  
“No! This is a disgrace and vicious mockery! I will not stand by and listen to this nonsense!”

Without letting anyone stop him, he marches out from the room, almost bumping into Arkous on the way out. The new arrival, along with a few others, seem amused at this development.  
Shortly after, Arkous walks into the center and bows gracefully to either side.  
“My lords, I am Darth Arkous and I'm most grateful for your belief in me. This promotion is a great honor, which I will do my utmost to prove myself worthy of. I shall live up to your expectations and become a reliable member of this organization.  
Long live the Dark Council and long live the Empire!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And so, they were nine._   
>  _...for now._   
>  _I know it's stated somewhere that there has to be a unanimous decision, but they went with a simple majority vote here instead. Easier to actually accomplish what they needed._


	43. A Cipher's debt

Traffic in and out of hutt space has been irregular as of late. After Supreme Mogul Toborro’s choice to ally with the New Empire, a lot of internal turmoil has struck the Cartel. While some hutts are more than willing to simply kowtow to their leader’s wishes, others are not so quick to obey. Assassins have been hired and utilized across the board, territorial disputes have increased, and separatist factions are forming, as some consider starting their own union.

Amidst all this mess, outsiders have been uncertain how to react. Due to the fact that not all hutts want to ally with Emperor Malgus, the Sith Empire, the Republic, syndicates and other groups have seen their opportunity to utilize Toborro’s opponents to slip through the cracks, but that doesn’t mean they’re safe. The Supreme Mogul’s forces will attack on sight, if the identifications of vessels or people don’t match who they believe should be allowed to enter. One must be cunning and stealthy to succeed without issue.

Luckily, these traits are certainly ones that others would ascribe to Cierah. It’s very likely that she could’ve penetrated hutt space even if all of their people stood united in banning outsiders, as she’s an expert infiltrator, but the chaos is definitely an appreciated bonus. Makes her job somewhat easier and she can focus her efforts on other aspects than slicing into databanks to steal identification codes.

Cierah has come to the planet of Nal Hutta, capital of the ‘great’ Cartel. She can currently be found in the wilderness on this sludge world, a fact that doesn’t bring her much satisfaction.  
It’s been quite a while since she last visited, and she definitely hadn’t yearned for a return. In fact, she kind of hoped that the business with the terrorists would be her final trip. Those days now feel like a lifetime ago.

Unfortunately, when duty calls for her, she is willing to make certain sacrifices in order to succeed. In this case, she also couldn’t ignore the fact that it was a personally important task.  
She recently arrived in a small manufacturing town by speeder, away from the main ports of the world. Her purpose for being here would naturally take her away from any settlements, as the coordinates she was given in secret pointed towards a specific location.

She’s wandering into the depths of the surroundings swamps, dressed in a black jacket with a tall collar, thick boots, red pants and a white polo-neck shirt underneath. Her appearance is fairly inconspicuous, but that’s basically the point too.  
To anyone who might be watching her, they’d assume she is alone. There’s no one at her side, nor in the vicinity and her lips aren’t moving. Though, admittedly, it’s possible that she could contact allies with her implants.

The purpose of Cierah’s visit is simple, yet ambiguous. Not all too long ago, she received a mail that piqued her interest. It was encoded and after she managed to break it, using very familiar Imperial Intelligence systems, she saw that it was signed by a fascinating title – Cipher Fifteen.  
Cierah doesn’t actually know who or what might’ve utilized that moniker, but it doesn’t really matter. The fact that it could be a former imperial agent hiding out here is enough to attract her attention. This is not to say that she’s not suspicious.

After the Sith disbanded Imperial Intelligence, she hasn’t heard much more than the occasional word regarding the fact that the Dark Council is attempting to build a new spy organization. The war is obviously slowing down the process, but Valcera is keeping her apprised. With its leader gone and most of the resources seemingly being funneled into the pockets of Darth Marr, it has been difficult to maintain order and most Sith are not very eager to give power back to spies in the first place. They broke Intelligence and they don’t intend to simply reassemble the same structure.

Other than the former Minister of Intelligence and Shara, Cierah barely gets any word from other former agents. Part of the reason is of course that she is involved with a lot of complicated activities and some resentful Sith are ruthlessly hunting everyone, especially her, so very few want to take the risk of contacting someone like her, but even the most basic allies are gone. She hasn’t even received any messages from Watcher Three. Is he still alive or anyone else for that matter?

This is why very it’s very confusing and interesting that someone like Cipher Fifteen would reach out to her, especially out of nowhere. Is it an alias? Is it an old enemy? Or is there actually a Cipher agent waiting? She’s willing to take risks to find out, though not without precautions.  
The old Minister is currently unavailable last she checked, so she hasn’t been able to ask him for details. She could’ve waited, but she doesn’t really want to be dependent on him or anyone else. She does her own thing now and has to rely on herself.

The area where the coordinates point to is somewhat more exposed, like a small glade. It’s an opening in the outskirts of the town, among the murky water and dubious canopy. The putrid smells of the surroundings remain, but she can endure that.  
Once she stops, Cierah doesn’t immediately call out. Instead, she waits, letting her contact act first. If she’s expected, someone should be watching her, right?  
But nothing happens. There are no movements in the shadows nor any sounds of cracking vegetation. Did she come too early? Checking her internal watch, it should be the correct hour.

Getting a bird’s eye view might be preferable here, which is why she activates another implant. Instead of unfolding it, her cybernetic eye accesses a camera that is positioned far above the swamp, connected to none other than her trusted owl, Cipher’s Menace.  
The bird is flying silently and cleverly helps Cierah scour everything in her vicinity, by simply following instructions it gained earlier, to pursue her.

Just like her own implants, this camera has several modes and with its help, she realizes that she is not alone. The heat sensors can detect at least a dozen individuals around her location, though she can’t be certain who or what their intentions are. Best to proceed carefully.  
The agent does her best not to tense up and give her emotions away, but to those that know her, it’s obvious that her guard is now raised. A slight furrowing of the brow, a small elevation of the shoulders and somewhat stiffer leg movement. If a Cipher agent is involved, they might recognize these elements, if they were trained accordingly.

Trying to test their patience, she waits for about a minute, before she attempts to leave the area. Her trick succeeds too, as the entire group jumps out from the shadows and advances on her position.  
Cierah swiftly draws the only weapon she brought, a pistol hidden under her jacket. She manages to take one down with an accurate shot to the left leg, but that’s as far as she gets. She’s experienced and observant enough to notice that most of them hold blaster rifles, but one has a somewhat strange version of it.

It’s not like she’d ever claim to be the most resilient of people, but she can certainly take a couple of shots to her body without going down, even more so with all the tech in her body. That’s why it’s so initially confusing when this unknown weapon fires some type of stun round at her and she instantly collapses. In the last year or two, she has enhanced her cybernetics, making it so that she can resist conventional stun charges and keep fighting, in case anyone would be foolish enough to face her. But this isn’t a stun gun, is it?

What is sent through her is some type of EMP-like shot, which may not really hurt her actual body much, but the implants go haywire. Due to the accident several years ago, most of her body is filled with machines and technology. She can’t live without them and if one knows how to circumvent or even target those tools specifically, she becomes very vulnerable.  
This is exactly what happens here, and she only widens her organic eye and mouth as she plunges to the ground in a mess. The pain that wreaks through her is immense too, like someone just detonated a bomb inside of her.

It takes several moments for any of her senses to return, but by that point, she’s weakened and useless in the dirt. Not only that, she’s also surrounded by her attackers, each of them aiming weapons steadily in her face. She can only briefly scan them with her functional eye, seeing that they wear green, brown and yellow gear to camouflage themselves. Most of them are adorned in full armor and helmets covering their faces, which means she can’t identify anything more than that they’re likely all humanoid. Should’ve expected as much.

One of them takes another two steps, standing in front of the rest, before they put a hand towards their belt and lifts up a small device, a holocomm unit. They activate it and holds it up for her, to show the hologram appearing on top.  
Cierah may be panting on the ground, trying to recover, but she’s not out of the game. She can easily recognize this individual. How could she ever forget?

“Darth Zhorrid”, she states calmly, in between ragged breaths.

The Sith stands there in a set of black and red-lined robes, her expression widening into a vicious smile.  
“My my, but it has been quite some time, hasn’t it? My dear precious Cipher Nine.”

“Figures. Should’ve expected this was your ploy; though I will admit it was a well-crafted one.”

The former Councilor giggles.  
“I’m glad you agree! Did you enjoy the prototype anti-cyborg rifle my agents utilized? I had my engineers begin working on it years back, but it was hard to adjust it to someone with your capabilities, especially during such a tumultuous stage.  
Oh, but I have been looking forward to this encounter. I realized this wasn’t the most advanced scheme I could employ, but I was confident it would lure someone like you in.”  
She tilts her head playfully.  
“It’s true what they say, isn’t it? You former Intelligence agents have created a foolish sense of attachment. You feel some type of innate need to protect one another. I suppose it was something that was fostered among you. A delightful weakness to exploit.”

Cierah coughs, though not by choice. She feels how one of the implants within her lungs has likely failed. She has to find some way to restart them, before more things go awry.  
“It was inevitable”, she says with a strained voice. “We lived in a hostile environment, surrounded by Sith who saw us as nothing but disposable tools to gather information. You were ready to crush us beneath your heels at the slightest suspicion of betrayal.”

“So? You knew what you got yourself into, Cipher. The recruiters should have told you on the first day.”

Well, in her case, there wasn’t really any option. She owed them, for being given equipment that secured her survival.  
She turns her gaze towards the Sith, narrowing her eye.  
“I know you approved of the controlling measures that were implemented into my already existing cybernetics. Hope you didn’t think that escaped me.”

If she believed that would deter the Sith or surprise her in any way, she’s mistaken. Zhorrid simply shrugs nonchalantly.  
“And? I’m not afraid to admit it, just like I’m not against confessing that the rifle you were shot with now was built specifically to target you. You had to be controlled, Cipher. Don’t assume I was the only one to agree – almost the entire Dark Council at the time concurred.  
And were we mistaken? You have proven to be a demonstrably threatening element to us and more devious than anyone could’ve imagined. The fact that you went rogue made that clear.”

Despite her weakened state, Cierah chuckles.  
“Ironic, isn’t it? You followed the same route, but not to protect the Empire.”

Zhorrid rolls her eyes and waves dismissively.  
“Oh please, don’t give me any of that patriotic spiel. You don’t care for the Empire, you are merely Imperius’ puppet. You may deny it, but I know you are her foremost source of information. How else would she have found out about the plot against Beniko’s parents or Ziost?  
But here is where it will end.”

Cierah pushes herself up, getting into a seated position. Trying to rise to her feet is still difficult and pointless, as Zhorrid’s killers remain all around her.  
“Is that so? This is where you have me killed then?”

The Sith closes her eyes and puts her hand to her chest in a somewhat theatrical manner.  
“It _wounds_ me to have to do this, Cipher. You were my favorite, you know? After my father disappeared, you followed my orders so obediently, did exactly what I demanded of you, even though I knew you would one day have to be silenced.  
I did consider having you captured, actually. Perhaps I could bring you in, bask in my light once more and become what you were truly meant to be.” Her expression soon changes into something less compassionate, callous even. “But looking at you now, I realize how much contempt I feel for your betrayal. You are too dangerous to be kept alive.”

The agent sighs and diverts her eye.  
“Are you done gloating?”

“Far from it, but I suppose we should shorten the process. At least now you will know who sends you screaming into the void. You were outsmarted by the woman who you believed yourself to be untouchable by. I hope that hurts, more than the blaster shots will.”

It’s rare for Cierah to laugh, even more so when she’s in pain, but she does release a small and short one as she receives the chance.  
“An amusing angle, and very presumptuous. What makes you think this is it?”

Zhorrid stares at her for a moment or two, before she tilts her head back and laughs, more heartily than Cierah.  
“Bluster, this late, agent? Maybe you’ve earned it, but it is utterly pointless. My men have scanned the area already. There are no other signs of life here. You came alone, Cipher, because you thought you could find a comrade, but death is all that awaits you.”

Cierah gives her a second, waiting for any further boasting, before she shakes her head.  
“If this is really the end, then perhaps you’ll permit me a few last words?”

The Sith gestures to her.  
“Feel free.”

“You were never a worthy Sith. You were cruel and twisted, and the only pity I feel for you is that you had to have a despicable man as a father. The Dark Council should’ve never accepted you.”

Any humor or satisfaction instantly fades from Zhorrid, being replaced by a rage that finds the appropriate fertile soil and sprouts quickly.  
“I have changed my mind. Perhaps it’s best if we teach you a lesson first. My loyal servants, it appears Cipher Nine has not had enough pain. Indulge her, will you?”

The one holding the holocomm reacts immediately, taking a step forward and punches Cierah square in the face. The agent can’t resist and immediately slams back down to the earth. She coughs more violently now and spits on the ground. Pain surges through her jaw, and speaking will not do much for her. Won’t actually stop her, though.  
“That’s the funny thing about you Sith – you never finish the job quickly enough.”

“Normally, I would, but I have been waiting for this opportunity for too long. My only regret is that I can’t be there myself, to _strangle_ the life out of you.”

Her voice almost seems to be shaking with anger now. Cierah must have really hit a nerve.  
“Tell me something else, Zhorrid. Was there ever a real Cipher Fifteen? Or was that just another deception?”

Some of the fury temporarily subsides. She looks confused that this would be an issue, but it is quickly replaced by amusement.  
“Still clinging to hope, are you? Well, allow me to crush it completely, then – no, there isn’t. No such Cipher exists anymore. It’s as _dead_ as the rest of you pitiful worms will be.”

“Good to know”, she says and then puts two fingers to her mouth. It takes some effort, but she does manage to whistle.

Zhorrid, along with the squad she dispatched, all react with confusion at first, which doesn’t last for long. It is enough to create a gap, however.  
From the shadows of the swamp, a loud sharp sound erupts, originating from a devastating weapon. The shot soars through the air with incredible speed and penetrates the head of one of the armored soldiers, the helmet not being enough to deflect such high-velocity destruction.  
The soldiers flinch almost simultaneously, before they turn and run, attempting to rush for cover in the opposite direction. Another shot penetrates a second soldier before this happens, but the third misses. All of it is executed perfectly to create the necessary amount of chaos.

Amidst the madness, Cierah turns one of her arms around and accesses a switch hidden under her skin. This begins the resetting process of her implants that should get her back into some sort of functional state eventually. She releases a shivering gasp upon triggering it.  
Her internal comm unit starts to work almost immediately, and she hears a familiar droid’s voice in her ear.  
“Query: Master, two undesirables have been eliminated. Would you like the rest destroyed as well?”

She opens her mouth, but feels how her chest still vibrates and her lungs are grasping for air; she isn’t fit for fighting yet.  
“Yes, HK. Kill them all.”

“Gleeful acknowledgement: As you command, master.”

While they believe that they can escape HK’s shots by hiding out of sight from the sniper, a fact that isn’t entirely implausible, they underestimate the tactics of their foes. From the concealed corners of this area, another droid suddenly leaps out.  
SCORPIO’s agility-based machinery obscuring an immense amount of physical power, allows her to ambush her first foe and kick them to the ground with such strength that they pass out, cracking the soil on impact. Before any countermeasures can be prepared, she knocks another one out cold with a quick array of punches and when a third attempt to get her from behind, they come too close. SCORPIO grabs their arm, pulls them in and seizes their throat. She lifts them into the air and sends an electric jolt straight into their body, potentially killing or at least gravely wounding them.

At this point, the comm unit used to call Zhorrid has fallen to the ground, discarded, and the Sith is in disarray.  
“Hello? What’s going on over there? I demand that someone tells me what’s happening!”

Someone does pick it back up, but likely not who she had hoped. The person that appears before her is Cierah, who snorts derisively.  
“You’re correct, Zhorrid, your men didn’t find life signs, because there were none at ground level. You see, my crew consists of more than organics.”

Zhorrid lifts her hand and clenches it.  
“…you smug, contemptuous little wretch!”

With HK and SCORPIO working together, they can accomplish victory rather efficiently. Not only are the droids both highly sophisticated killing machines, but they are also quite a bit more robust than organics.  
It’s not like they proceed without sustaining some damage, though, especially for the droid at melee range. Her internal alarm soon activates to tell her that she can’t continue in this fashion for an extended period, but aid arrives from HK’s direction.

His voice is soon heard from her communications application.  
“Remark: You are welcome for the timely assistance.”

Her own tone is as calm, cold and uninterested as usual.  
“An inaccurate statement. Compared to your obsolete and inadequate casing, my hardware is crafted and enhanced to endure impairments beyond your comprehension. I never needed nor requested your support.”

“Retort: Valuable intel. I shall store this information in my memory banks for the next instance you end up in peril.”

“It will only occur in the haze of your diagnostic downtimes.”

In amidst their bickering, one of Zhorrid’s soldiers actually manages to escape the constant firing and sprints towards Cierah, perhaps hoping that they can regain some kind of upper hand by taking her hostage. Her implants have not fully recharged, meaning she stands little chance to defend herself.  
The agent does turn around in time, but they kick her back down, causing even more pain for the Cipher, before they aim the gun at her.

Fortunately, no shots are fired. Aid arrives from the sky, as Menace flies down digs his claws right into the helmet of the killer. It doesn’t do much to actually hurt them, but their entire vision is obscured by claws, feathers and a very angry pair of eyes, getting in the way.  
The distraction of trying to chase the bird away, creates a perfect opportunity for HK-51, who lines his rifle up and puts two sharp shots into their body.

When Cierah struggles to sit up again, she notes how the owl lands on her shoulder. She lifts her hand and affectionately caresses the feathers on his stomach.  
“My hero. What would I be without you, huh?”  
He shuts his large eyes and strokes head against her cheek in a loving fashion.

While the event is out of view for her, it’s impossible for the agent not to hear the crashing, bashing and furious shouting on the other side of the holocall, as Zhorrid passionately ‘rearranges’ her office.  
“ _You are infuriating!_ This was supposed to be my victory!”

The agent doesn’t stand up, feeling like she has been punched to the soil enough times by now, that she might as well stay down. She does slide closer, enough to pick up the device, though.  
“Sorry to disappoint, but I never planned to die just yet. I have much left to do before my time is over.  
I do wish to extend my gratitude for sending so many dead agents my way, though. I’m sure I will be able to extract information from their gear.”

Soon enough, the Sith reappears in front of the transceiver, her hair somewhat disheveled by now. She points at her foe.  
“This isn’t over! I will come back and finish you once and for all, Cipher! I will not be bested by a mere pawn!”

Cierah raises an eyebrow in a skeptical fashion.  
“Curious choice of words, seeing as how you blindly followed Malgus into the coming oblivion.”

It appears that Cierah isn’t the only one panting, as the same motion is being performed by Zhorrid now, but for different reasons, naturally. Her eyes drift away, as memories swirl through mind.  
“It was demeaning enough that my father would show more understanding for a mere spy than he ever did for his daughter. I will never comprehend why he did it.  
You are _nothing_ and, in the end, you will be forgotten.”

The Cipher offers a nonchalant shrug in response.  
“I would rather be unknown than let the entire galaxy laugh whenever they hear my name, like they do with you.”

Zhorrid glares at her again.  
“…you are lucky that I cannot reach you.”

“Then why do you let this back and forth nonsense continue? Give me a location and we can finish this right now. I’m not afraid to face you.”

“You think I would be so foolish as to let you send an entire fleet after me? Go to hell. I will find you once again, Cipher, but it shall by on _my_ terms. Mark my words, the last thing you’ll ever see is my pleased grin.”

The call ends abruptly and with it, Cierah’s shoulders slump. She practically collapses once more, as she feels utterly exhausted after all she has endured. A talk with Lokin about checking the stability of her implants seems like a wise prospect.  
At that moment, HK arrives at her side.  
“Inquiry: What is your status, master? Do you require medical assistance?”

“Yes, but not from you. I need my doctor.” She lifts her gaze up to him. “But thank you for protecting me. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

HK inclines his head.  
“Honored proclamation: It is always a pleasure to serve you, master, especially when my kill count can be increased so substantially.”

“Happy to hear it. Could you…help me up? My implants haven’t recovered, and I’ll need someone to support me.”

“Confession: It was not the most appropriate strategy, to approach them in such a vulnerable position. Your damage could have been contained if you allowed us to assist earlier.”

“I know, but I had to get her talking. She would only do so if she knew she had the advantage.”

That’s when they hear another voice from the opposite side.  
“And that is why you continue to suffer, Draconius – you are too willing to take risks that are unbeneficial”, says SCORPIO, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

As Cierah get to her feet with HK’s aid, she glances in the other droid’s direction.  
“You may not agree with me, but this was the best way to get the truth swiftly.”

“For the sake of a perceived comrade, which you didn’t even know existed?”

“The chance was always there.”

“And next time stumble into obliteration, you will most likely fall.”

Cierah tilts her head with interest.  
“Worried for my health? Why thank you.”

“My concern is out of self-interest. If you die, I have few organic avenues to assist with my improvements. Until that fact changes, you must remain.”

“Sure, SCORPIO. If you say so.”  


* * *

  
In another section of the galaxy, several hours later, Zhorrid has tried to calm herself down with other activities, but it’s been difficult. Meditation isn’t really her thing, so she has attempted listening to some Sith opera, studying a few holocrons still in her possession and even target practice.  
Nothing helps. Cierah’s smug face persists in her mind and the fact that the agent eluded her is humiliating. She should’ve ordered her subordinates to fire immediately, but she had to make sure.

That’s when she hears a sound from one of her datapads, as an incoming message has been received. This is an aspect she has actually been dreading, as the realization of who it might be is discouraging. They must have heard of these events by now. They always do.  
When she checks her mail, the source is anonymous, but she can guess who it is by the tone.  
_“What did I tell you? You should’ve laid low. Instead, you keep digging your own grave, using codes that don’t belong to you. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”_

Zhorrid furrows her brow and grasps the datapad tightly, considers breaking the device into a million pieces, but thinks better of it.  
“Shut up”, she types back. “I planned this mission a long time ago and knew what I was doing. There was just a slight miscalculation.”

_“You don’t say? What gave you the ‘brilliant’ idea to use me as bait?”_

“It’s not yours anymore and I didn’t think it mattered.”

_“It matters to me. If you gave me a chance, we could’ve done this together.”_

Always with the offers of help. Zhorrid knows it’s a lie, a façade. Has to be. They’re always like this.  
“I already said I don’t need you.”

_“And how many times must you fail before you realize how wrong you are?”_

The next message from the Sith is delayed, as she types at least ten different texts and deletes each one. She settles for something simple.  
“Stop pestering me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I swear this is not a story all about hurting Cierah...but she kinda just ends up in these types of situations._


	44. We ill-fated few

Rain, thunder and lightning. She had feared this would be the welcoming they’d receive upon their visit. Not an unusual sight for Dromund Kaas, of course, as this weather is so prevalent that most hardly even notice its presence. A drizzle on the capital is like a Jedi locked in delusions of self-righteousness – they go hand in hand, in most imperials’ eyes, no matter how unfair that image might be. Valcera may have come to terms with this reality in her own life, but today…couldn’t it have taken at least a small break?

It’s around lunch time when Valcera has assembled not just her beloved girlfriend, but the entire team inside her sizeable apartment within Kaas City. She ensured that everyone managed to get a leave of absence, called any superiors or cancelled their appointments, so that they would be able to accept her invitation. This event is significant to her for many reasons and she needed her closest friends and allies to attend. They have to be seen.

The names included in this equation, other than Lana, are Ashara, Bejarah, Andronikos, Francine, Khem, Talos, Simiris and even Xalek. Some were mildly astonished to see that the latter Sith would comply with the request, but it wasn’t necessarily condemned. The kaleesh simply tends to be an awkward element on more formal occasions, as his idea of how to behave during them is quite unpredictable. Some days, this might create gales of social disarray.

At this precise moment, all of them are gathered in the center of the living room, the heart of their apartment, if viewed by design. She has lined each of them up into one single row, facing her, for inspection.  
Well, that was her intention at least, but she finds difficulty in defining the best combination of appropriate positions.

Her initial reaction is to place Lana and Ashara in the center, with Khem and Xalek at the flanks, while the rest would have to be arranged in suitable locations somewhere in the middle. However, another idea pops into her mind and her opinion shifts, making her wonder if it might not be wiser to replace the taller former apprentice with Andronikos, as the pillars of stalwart security for the team, and plant Xalek next to the togruta. They did both hold the same rank only some months ago, after all, and Val adores seeing them get along.

But no, that won’t work. What happens to Bejarah in that scenario? In spite of her misgivings, she has acknowledged the fact that the rattataki and Ashara are in love and separating them in this introductory situation would divert the opportunity to present their relationship in the pertinent fashion. She could remove her from Lana’s side, but this is unthinkable too. She may not state it outright, but those two are undeniably the two women she treasures most. Quite a dilemma, as three people can’t stand alongside her, and shoving one of them to the back is not fair.

Another conundrum is where to put Talos. Is it apt to set him on Fran’s left, with Sim on the right, or should the assistant accompany Bejarah? And while her original logic regarding Khem seemed feasible, she’s now questioning the legitimacy of it. Can she really leave him so distantly from the center? After all he has done for her, the hardships and grueling torrents of problems they’ve endured, does he not deserve recognition?

Eventually, as she has been mumbling and grumbling for a few minutes, hardly even acknowledging the fact that her companions are physically present, not mere holograms, Lana breaks formation and advances to her with a smile. Though, she does attempt to maintain some kind of resolve as well, to show she won’t loiter here all day. Her hands rise, envelop her girlfriend’s cheeks and leans in to kiss her ardently. The mirialan hadn’t quite anticipated this choice, but welcomes the warmth. It manages to be a soothing reprieve from the hesitation.

“I think that’s more than enough, don’t you?”, Lana tells her. “You should settle down and stop fidgeting, dear. Everything is going to be alright. This won’t become a disaster simply because you couldn’t diminish the asymmetry or whatever.”

Val sighs and annoyedly rolls her eyes. Her hands have slid down to her girlfriend’s waist at this point.  
“That’s not what I was doing, actually. Besides, you can’t predict how this will end, for you don’t truly understand. I want everything to look perfect, to let them know what it’s like to meet my…well, family, I suppose.”

Most of those here are briefly stunned by the sentiment, not quite having expected such frankness. Though it’s not terribly startling when Sim appears somewhat confused.  
“…family?”

Francine’s lips curl in amusement as she slips her fingers around those of her girlfriend.  
“I believe she was speaking of everyone else, dear.”

The puzzlement quickly shifts into a playful element.  
“Oh. I’m not worthy of that definition, am I?”

“Well…you could be, if you chose to, but I thought you were here mostly for me.”

“You did mention a date.”

In the meantime, Val has virtually ignored the conversation and now pursues the concern that’s already eating at her. She waltzes up to Bejarah and examines the plain bronze-colored dress the mercenary wears. She spots a few crinkles and quickly corrects them.  
“This, for example, is something we cannot abide. It should look smooth and crisp.”

The rattataki tilts her head, a smirk swiftly sliding onto her face.  
“Yes, mom.”

Val furrows her brow and lifts a hand to poke her friend’s nose, albeit gently.  
“And none of that attitude, please. I’m haunted by stress enough as it is; don’t need you irritating me.”

“Thought that was my job.”

Like some type of drill sergeant on a scrutinizing run of new soldiers, Val proceeds along the row of her allies, noticing another minor blemish.  
“Andronikos, I adore the shoes you chose for this occasion, but there’s a smudge on the right one. Oh, and Ashara, could you perhaps unfold your collar? It looks nicer that way. And Xalek, did you really have to pick that cape? I convinced Lana to discard hers, but you don’t appear to have listened to my instructions at all!”

The Councilor emits a heavy sigh and raises her hand to rub her eyes. It makes Lana smile and shake her head.  
One of those she has no complaints for is Talos, who nevertheless adjusts his attire somewhat.  
“I hope my garb is to your liking, my lord. I wore my best uniform for this specific occasion!”

Luckily, Val looks practically relieved when she addresses him.  
“Yes, it didn’t escape me, and I thank you for the dedication, my dear.” This praise is swiftly amended. “However, where are those medals you were awarded last year? Their inclusion would have truly refined what you have already on display.”

The entertained expression on Bejarah now grows into a grin.  
“Did I mention that your mother side is showing, Val?”

“Stop it!”, Val exclaims, aiming an admonishing finger at her friend. “No more snark from you today!”

“Shouldn’t have invited me then.”

After using some spit to clean his footwear, Andronikos stands up and squirms somewhat in his outfit.  
“Don’t know if I’ve said this already, but I feel out of place in all this extravagant crap. You know when the last time I wore a suit was? Like a decade, on some lousy scoundrel’s wedding in a cheap casino. And there was a lot more drinks and shooting back then.”

Val halts next to him, plants her hand on his shoulder and looks into his eyes.  
“Well, then you should probably feel honored regarding this occasion, for not only is this more personal, but the repercussions if anything goes amiss is far more severe. But there shall be no shooting in my apartment.”

“My lord”, Xalek states, seizing her attention, “I have been educating myself about a number of Sith rites. Shall I perform some for your guests?”

“No!”, she blurts and shoots her hands in the air. “Absolutely not! That’s the _last_ thing you should ever do.”  
She notes how her former apprentice merely blinks at her, making his emotions undeterminable from the exterior. She does sense a notion of disappointment from within, which influences her to walk up and pat his arm.  
“Listen, I am proud that you have chosen to pursue this type of knowledge, but the ones we’re expecting are…fairly uncomfortable regarding too many Sith-inspired activities.”

“As you say, master.”

Barring the pilot, Khem is probably the most aggravated of all in here, or at the very least the one lost in a grumpy state. He is, unexpectedly, most displeased regarding the getup Val picked out for him.  
“This is unacceptable”, he says in the dashade tongue, indicating the long sangria-colored jacket, white tie and brown long skirt, instead of his customary loincloth.  
“Would Veshikk Urk have witnessed me in this absurd outfit, he would mock me to my grave.”

He has decided to not wear any translation devices today, so Val does him the courtesy of communicating in the same language.  
“Don’t be so petulant, darling. You look perfectly presentable.”

“Wrong. How will I fight in this wasted and insultingly delicate material? It would only obstruct any of my moves and diminish my agility.”

Val rolls her eyes and lifts her arms in a shrug.  
“Fighting? Khem, you’re here to meet with my friends, not duel them to the death.  
Besides, I utilize robes all the time and I’ve never had a problem.”  
With her fears and unease not being alleviated, she redirects herself elsewhere, as other thoughts surfaces. She switches back to Basic in the process.  
“I wish Zal was here.”

The statement draws Lana’s attention, who views her with interest.  
“Oh? You think she would add anything?”

“Maybe. Most of all, she deserves to be. She endured a similar past as me and my friends, and I have a feeling they would’ve understood each other better.”

This is obviously not the only reason she can detect within the depths of her heart. She also would’ve adored the opportunity of introducing the Wrath to one particular guest, who may have appreciated the demeanor and humor of her dear ‘sister’. She has known several twi’leks in her life and they’ve all been people that she would defend against any threat or criticism. Zal rarely gets to be with others of her species anyhow, apart from Vette, so this would’ve been quite the encounter. But-

And that’s the exact moment when the shroud of her thoughts dissipates, and anxiety seeps back into her – the doorbell has rung. The mirialan manages to suppress a wincing motion and her gaze sweeps across the amassed crew. It has to be her friends outside, as she requested for them to be driven and escorted here.  
“…damn. No more time for preparations. Wait here, alright? And _behave_. I don’t want to hear any chatter until we get back.”  
She doesn’t falter or consider the prospect much, before capturing Lana’s cheeks and kissing her abruptly. It’s a fleeting, but consoling gesture.  
“Make sure everyone remains here.”

Lana is surprised by the adamant nature of her girlfriend’s sudden shift and has to take a moment to respond.  
“…if you say so.”

Val is gone before anyone can protest, soaring through the corridor that takes her all the way up to the exit. She straightens her own somewhat asymmetrical azure blue dress along the way and pulls at the gold sash in order to tighten its grip. It is more modest than some of the other outfits in her collection, but it doesn’t hide the scars over her neck. She rarely conceals these marks, never being reluctant about letting the world see who she was or what she has endured. They may already suspect, but she makes it blatant.

As she unlocks the door and lets it slide open, she surveys the familiar sight of three figures that she has missed quite dearly. Two of them are outwardly in a happier state than the last.  
Alessa, the light blue twi’lek with black tattoos in an array of curved shapes, can be seen adorned in a white sleeveless shirt, which exposes her toned arms, and loose black pants. A silver necklace hangs in place and the cloth she wears as a headband at the ends of her lekku and forehead is honey-colored today.  
Next to her is the taller woman, with dark green hue and simpler white tattoos. Vy’nel has opted for a far lengthier garb, an ebony-colored unconstrained gown, with patterns of glistening moons and suns on top. Compared to their last meeting, she does utilize a thin bronze metal headband.

Alessa exposes a wide and happy grin as she advances on the mirialan and spreads her arms.  
“Chora!”, she exclaims, just prior to embracing her dear friend while laughing heartily. “It’s so good to see you!”

Despite practically being swallowed in the gesture, Val mirrors the emotion across her own lips, doing her best to return the hug.  
“You too, Alessa.” In a minor recess, she places a hand around one of the arms and squeezes lightly. “Have you been working out some more? Feels like they’re bigger than last time.”

The shorter twi’lek, though still taller than her, looks very proud when she lifts the appendages and flexes.  
“You think so? Guess I might’ve boosted my workout sessions a bit, yeah.”

Behind this woman, Val hears a slight sigh.  
“Please don’t stroke her ego anymore, okay? She’s cocky enough as it is.”

Glancing in this direction, the Councilor witnesses the other sister approaching with a small smile. Her hug is equally warm, but more tender.  
“More than usual? Didn’t think it could go that far”, Val states smugly.

“Hey, screw you! You two are just jealous”, Alessa retorts.

After the duo giggles, Vy’nel tilts her head nearer and places a quick kiss on Val’s forehead.  
“Seriously, it’s lovely to see you again, Chora.”

The Councilor raises a hand to caress her friend’s cheek.  
“You know I feel the same. I miss you all the time.”

And so, they come to the more problematic element, the moment that Val has been dreading and yearning for simultaneously.  
A few meters away from the twi’leks stands a different woman, from another species entirely. It wouldn’t be unheard of to mistake the violet skin for that of a chiss, but this one’s eyes display the color of marigold, not red, nor are they without irises. She’s a keshiri, and like the trio, she can certainly be described as stunning, though not externally amiable.  
Her build is sturdy, less so than Alessa, but more so than the other two. The long lustrous silver hair hangs freely over her shoulder, dancing slightly in the wind. A faint frown adorns her brow, as always, and she wears perhaps the most modest set of clothes, with a lime-colored shirt, brown pants and a coat in shades of iron.

It takes a few seconds for either of the women to act, for neither knows how to resolve the innate tension. The gaze of the keshiri is ambiguous and reveals very few thoughts. In the past, Val could’ve likely discerned the reality regardless of this veil, but it has been too many years. She’s not sure where they stand now.  
Notions of discomfort eats into the Councilor’s chest eventually, as she actually begins to wonder whether her former friend is going to escape this awkward scenario or not.

Luckily, she makes a decision that is more pleasing, though not necessarily one that alleviates concern. She shuts the distance between the two, looking deeply into Val’s blue eyes.  
“Hello, Lashae”, she states carefully. “Long time no see.”

The keshiri doesn’t offer an instant retort. Instead, her gaze starts to roam, examining the length of the Sith's face. Val notes how her friend fidgets with her own sleeves.  
“You have uh…” She lifts her hand and indicates the brands. “…some new markings. Since the last picture you sent, anyway.”

How long has it been since Val heard that melodic and yet surprisingly constrained voice? It’s always so cautious, held back, but can explode at a moment’s notice with song or ferocity. Both have been aimed against Val, on numerous occasions.  
“Yes”, she responds, with an eager smile. “That was a few years ago, I think? I wanted to transmit more, but…”

“I know.”

Terse and inconclusive. It’s weird to Val how she can feel both so delighted and frustrated that Lashae seemingly hasn’t changed.  
Despite the mental pressure between them, the keshiri continues her stride, extends her arms and embraces her friend. Val’s previously happy expression brightens tenfold, with both of the twi’leks mirroring this emotion.

“I’ve missed you”, the Councilor whispers. She gets nothing in return but a marginal tightening of the hold.  
“Anyway, come with me. My friends are inside. They’re important people that I’ve wanted to introduce for ages.”

“Finally!”, Alessa utters. “Been waiting for a chance to embarrass our Chora in front of all the ones who see her as some ‘scary Sith’.  
You think we should tell the story about when she managed to explode a bowl of soup in her own face? Or that time a tiny bug scared her into locking herself in the bathroom for a whole day?”

Val points a cautionary finger towards the stronger woman.  
“Hey…don’t even try it.”

Vy chuckles and wraps an arm around her sister’s shoulders.  
“Sounds better to me if we attempt to be nice for once.”

Alessa pouts and folds her arms in a dissatisfied fashion.  
“Blegh. Boring.”

The only one who hasn’t given any immediate answer is Lashae and this has not eluded the Councilor. She looks at the keshiri and doesn’t move until she gets one. Takes a couple of moments, but a nod is eventually received.  
“Okay”, replies plainly.

They stride inside together, remove their shoes and swiftly relocate to the living room. The initial sight appears to amuse Alessa greatly. She practically laughs the very moment they enter.  
“Wow, you’re all organized like some kind of military squad. Was this Chora’s idea?”

Val arches her brow perplexedly.  
“Well, yes, of course it was. Why would-“

She never manages to finish the sentence, as Alessa interrupts by poking her cheek.  
“You fuss too much.”

“…Chora?”, they hear Ashara mumble, but no one unveils the nature of this nickname.

With a brief roll of her eyes, Val moves ahead of her friends.  
“Whatever. Shall I present you to my companions then?  
The two you see here are Ashara Zavros and Xivhkalrainik, or Xalek, my former apprentices. They have recently been promoted to full Sith Lords, by myself. Ash came to me from the Jedi Order, while Xalek had…well, a similar past as we did.”

Both of them bow their heads politely.  
“A pleasure and an honor”, Ash states.

“Indeed”, is all they get from the latter.

“This man here in Andronikos Revel, a former pirate that has worked as my most proficient pilot for the last few years. The Ashen Folly wouldn’t be anywhere close as efficient without him.”

While there’s not much of a reaction from anyone else, Alessa leans closer to Val and whispers into her ear.  
“He’s kinda hot.”

The mirialan’s brow twitches and she glances at the pirate, who only returns it bemusedly, obviously not having overheard.  
“Don’t tell him that.” Val clears her throat and proceeds. “Next, there’s of course one of the most talented archaeologist in the business, Captain Talos Drellik.”

This same man bows much more gracefully than the rest.  
“Always a singular honor to encounter companions of my lord and superior! If either of you have any interest in historical authenticity, I’m sure we can discuss such elements later.”

Val nods at the next person in the line.  
“This here is Bejarah, a mercenary that I befriended before my ascension as an apprentice. She can be a handful.”

“Bah, she loves me! Don’t let her tell ya otherwise”, the rattataki attempts to assure them.

“The woman over here is Ensign Francine Daimort, my assistant for the last year or so. Without her, I doubt my department would have been able to function properly. The lady at her side is Simiris, her girlfriend.  
And at this flank is Khem Val, the man who has been operating as my bodyguard since just prior to my apprenticeship. We became linked through…a Sith ritual, let’s say, and have been connected ever since.”  
Val stops, seizes the opportunity for a breather, as she knows what comes next. Perhaps the scariest occasion of all.  
“Lastly, but by no means least, is Lana Beniko. This is my beloved, the light of my day, my respite in the maelstrom of life.”

This human raises her brow.  
“…I wasn’t aware you intended to get so poetic. My name would’ve sufficed, yes?”

A chuckle escapes Val’s lips.  
“And perhaps the one who keeps me grounded”, she throws a cursory glance towards Lashae. “She doesn’t like titles.”

There’s a brief but audible exhale from Lana.  
“Don’t always succeed with the former either.”

Shortly after, Val takes a step back and slides her arms behind her friends, pulling them with her into the spotlight.  
“And these lovely ladies are old and beloved friends. This here is Alessa, who is…I guess you’re a Nab-ti champion now?”

The shorter twi’lek has moved her hand up to Val’s hair, gingerly running her fingers over it.  
“Mhm. I mean, not a galactic one, but I did win a belt in hutt space – regional middleweight champion on Nal Shaloch. There are way more prestigious leagues and tournaments, but my reputation is improving, yeah.”

“On Alessa’s right is Vy’nel, her sister and probably the most calculated and intellectual of us all.”

This description gets a snort out of her.  
“Uh, not sure about that. I’m just good with numbers and admin.”

Turning to the other side, Val views her final companion, scouring the expression that she displays. Ambivalent, but expected.  
“And finally, there’s Lashae. A lady who…means a lot to me. Though, hmm, I’m not sure what it is you do anymore, Lae.”

The keshiri crosses her arms, and while she is facing the group before them, her eyes are directed to the ground.  
“I work with sound production.”

“Aren’t you in a band too?”, Alessa adds. “Thought you told us you were playing at some club last month.”

Lashae snaps towards her, revealing a sharper frown.  
“It’s…nothing special.”

Too late, for Val’s interest has already been piqued.  
“Oh? What do you play?”

The other woman shuts her eyes and bites her lower lip for a few moments.  
“The…the keyboard.”

“Ooh, exciting! I have one in the apartment somewhere. Perhaps you could perform for us later?”

“I dunno.” Hoping to distract them away from her own abilities, Lashae aims her focus on the two youngest Sith.  
“You two are her apprentices?”

“Former apprentices, actually”, Ash corrects her.

Lashae shrugs.  
“Whatever.” Her eyes dart between them, but she appears to be most intrigued by Ash. “You were with the Jedi before?”

“I was. Well, a padawan, at least. I never stayed long enough to become a Knight, nor was I given the chance. My masters didn’t fully approve of my behavior.”

“And you thought the Sith was a better option?”, Lashae asks incredulously.

The response is delayed, as Ash ruminates on her personal angle in this question.  
“Well, no, not exactly. My decision wasn’t that straightforward.  
Just like my master, I am not a typical Sith, nor do I intend to be. The reason I came to her side and accepted the offer to follow her leadership was because of my desire to change this Order, to make it into something better, different. I believe this can only be achieved from within.”

Lashae practically scoffs.  
“Sounds like a fool’s fantasy to me”, she mutters.

Now this was undoubtedly a type of cynicism none had anticipated, which is why the room descends into an awkward silence.  
The one who manages to dissipate it is Val. She pretty much has no choice but to try.  
“You may not share the opinion, but Ash has brought a lot to the Sith Order, in terms of capabilities and a fresh mindset. Those of us who share her views exist out there and we’re growing.”

The rigid demeanor in Lashae gradually drifts to the surface, beginning to overtake her. She turns directly to the Councilor.  
“After all we’ve seen together, do you seriously expect me to believe that anything will change in this nightmare of a nation?”

What is Val to offer in return here? Perhaps this chiding is what she should’ve foreseen? She had hoped bickering would be kept to a minimum, but that was likely another dream.  
She gains support from someone who hasn’t said much so far, as Lana wanders up to them.  
“Miss Lashae, I haven’t had the chance to express it, but it is an honor to finally meet you. Val took me to see Alessa and Vy’nel last year, though they informed me of you as well. They all spoke quite highly of you, if memory serves.”

The motion is postponed, but Lashae does face the other Sith. It cannot be determined without a measure of doubt, but Lana would describe the stare as ‘icy’.  
“Did she really?”

“She said you were close friends, yes. Virtually sisters.”

With an expanding frown, she glances at the mirialan.  
“Did she now?” It’s unclear why, but Val isn’t currently meeting the marigold gaze. “Should’ve known.”

“Erm, was she…mistaken?”

Lashae evades the question entirely, but refocuses on the human.  
“The word about you reached me too, from Alessa and Vy’nel. You’re her girlfriend?”

“Correct.”

“And you’re Sith?”

“Like I told them during our encounter, I assumed it would be fairly obvious with my eyes, but I am, yes.”

“And a smug one too.”  
Not a scathing remark, but definitely dismissive. Lana is somewhat taken aback by it. She evidently doesn’t have much respect for Sith, possibly none for this human either, and she doesn’t do much to hide this fact.  
“How long have you been together?”

Lana uses her hand to push a few locks out of the way, behind her ear.  
“Uh, a little more than a year.”

“So she has told you about our lives?”

“Some, yes. I…have been made of aware of the details for a lot of the cruel hardships that you suffered.” She places a hand on her own chest, trying to increase the level of integrity in her delivery.  
“I want you to know that I don’t condone any of it. I dislike this system of the Empire and I encourage Val’s dismantling of it wholeheartedly.”

It is stated with conviction, at least as much as she can muster, but if she hoped it would be enough to impress the keshiri, she’s mistaken.  
“I don’t care”, she states flatly. “Your opinion is meaningless to me. You don’t know any of us. You may think you do, but you don’t. Perhaps you’ve heard a bunch of horrifying tales, but this will give you no insight about the reality, the actual experience.  
Have you ever felt the incredible weight of life crushing you beneath its heel? No, not in combat, war or sparring, but actual mental, physical and spiritual pressure, like there’s no escape regardless of how fiercely you struggle? Most humans, especially Sith, will never comprehend what it’s like and no sympathy you offer will ever make me more comfortable to stand in your presence. You’ll always be an oppressor.  
It will always be bizarre to me how Val could willingly choose this route, to join an Order that craves nothing but see her dead and broken, and I still don’t approve. If she wants to be with someone like you, though, I guess that’s her foolish prerogative.”

Any previous silence pales in comparison to the one she just summoned. It is as if she choked the conversation and stomped on its remains. Not even Alessa and Vy’nel have any kind of manner to assuage her.  
“Lae…”, Val starts, but doesn’t know how to conclude.

“Do you have anything to eat?”, she eventually asks.

“Erm…yes, there’s some waiting in the kitchen.”

“Okay, then let’s get to that. I’m hungry”, she informs everyone and then walks past them without a second glimpse.

Once she’s out of earshot, Alessa and Vy’nel closes in on their host and friend.  
“I’m so sorry, Chora”, Alessa apologizes in Ryl. “We had no idea she’d go on one of her rants.”

“We told her to be nice, but…well, you know what she’s like”, Vy adds.

Despite the growing sorrow, Val eases their burden by petting their shoulders.  
“It’s okay, I don’t blame either of you. I’ll attempt to tackle this dilemma on my own.”

Val realizes she has to find out why Lashae chose to come here. After all this time, all the fights they’ve endured, her opinion has seemingly not altered. So why accept the invitation? Another opportunity to clash or is this something different entirely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I wish I had pictures of Lashae to offer, but keshiri don't exist in-game, so that's not possible._


	45. Song of wishful neglect

Despite misgivings and avoidable tension, the gathering was eventually salvaged from total disaster, much to Valcera’s relief. After the surprisingly flat initial outburst from one particular attendant, the mood finally mellowed out and became more tolerable for everyone involved, especially those who felt somewhat perturbed or unprepared for the ensuing drama that threatened to overwhelm the whole event.

One of those who can’t claim to have fully recovered yet is the woman who became the first target, Lana, though calling her a victim may be hyperbolic. That she might view herself as a quarry for hostility is definitely not without merit, evident through both physical and mental scopes.  
Lashae had struck quite ardently against Lana and after the moment had passed, the keshiri retreated into her own solitary corner, only bringing a plate of food and a tall glass containing some alcoholic beverage. Val had purchased and stored a couple of wines and some ale for this specific occasion, which Lashae was obviously most eager to partake of, to ignore the inherent social pressure.

The only people who were even remotely allowed to approach, Alessa and Vy’nel, made valiant attempts at reaching out, at crafting the kind of bridge which seemed so distant from the outset. Sadly, their stays were cut short, as their old friend had politely asked them to give her some space. They couldn’t deny the desire to push, to at least nudge her marginally in a more cordial direction, but she refused. She would not be compelled.

The majority of the other attendants encounter far fewer amiable reactions, as the keshiri mostly just glares at them. The exception is, naturally, Val. The two share very few glances during the course of the evening, as the Councilor refuses to yield after the eruption and it’s hard to discern whether Lashae would even want to. The expressions directed at Val are ambiguous and lacking in certainty. She’s caught in a duality, a desire to speak with the mirialan like they used to in their more strenuous past, while simultaneously being filled with a sensation to just tell her to go fuck herself, to pack her shit up and leave Lashae alone once and for all.

Hours into the party, or however they wish to categorize this gettogether, Lana has enough of speculation and decides to approach her girlfriend, but avoids the possibility of doing anything extraordinarily intimate. They’re still in line of sight to Lashae and she suspects even the slightest hint of affection might infuriate the keshiri. The fact that her very presence is seemingly enough to summon contempt, prohibits her from attempting any daring displays.

“Val, can we talk?”, she asks quietly.

At this moment, they’re both standing near the border between the kitchen and the living room, with the rest of their friends roaming the vicinity. Lashae is in the latter area, sulking in one of the armchairs, with the plate on an armrest and her legs pushed against her chest. Val holds a drink, while Lana is empty-handed.  
The restraint doesn’t escape the Councilor, and she does not have to speculate what it derives from. If either of them believes that would be enough to deter Val, though, they don’t know her very well. She won’t let some sullen emotions stop her from indulging her adoration for the woman she loves. Before she responds, she slips her hand around the back of Lana’s neck and pulls her down into a mildly passionate display. She goes easy on the tongue, for now, but the taste is pleasant nonetheless.

Once they’ve parted by mere inches, her eyes open no more than halfway, whispering her response.  
“Don’t be afraid to express your feelings, darling. No one gets in between us.”

By now, Lana’s hands have fastened to Val’s waist, caressing it softly and a shadow of a smile materializes on her lips.  
“Sorry. I just didn’t…you know.”

She makes no physical or mental indications, but she doesn’t have to. They know what’s at play here. Val puts her glass down on a nearby table for now, prior to resting her arms around her lover’s neck. She ensures that their chests are interlocked, a choice that the human obviously hasn’t ignored.  
“I know. What did you have to say, then? Or did you merely crave some intimacy? You don’t have to ask for permission.”

“And I wasn’t trying to. No, this is about your…friend.”  
Her eyes drift away as a small frown finds it way onto her brow.  
“Maybe it’s stupid, but I can’t help wondering if I should simply walk up and talk to her. There…there has to be something I can say, anything to allay this absurd amount of tension. It’s almost choking the air by now.”

The previous exuded confidence in Val diminishes, being replaced by pensiveness.  
“I understand why you’re torn, dear, and I don’t blame you. But trying to reach out, at least in this case, may not be the most prudent solution.”

“But…”

“Listen, I’m on your side. What Lae said was harsh and perhaps undeserved, at least with the terms she used for you, but if even a sliver of it was truthful, I doubt any explanation from you would suffice.”

She watches Lana’s reaction for a couple of moments, seeing how her face is unchanged to begin with, but the flurry of emotions within are a storm; anger, guilt, frustration, helplessness – all of them are intermingled, caught in a battle for dominance. It’s impossible to tell the victor.  
“Then how do you want to play this? I’m willing to surrender to your wisdom in this regard, but I insist that nothing will improve if we allow her to remain isolated. Someone has to take the first step.  
Am I mistaken?”

The fact that Val begins to bite her own lip and fidget with her hands behind her girlfriend is likely enough to establish that there’s something to this analysis.  
“Not…exactly, but…”  
Slowly, Val’s gaze is steered towards Lashae’s seat, but when she stops, she makes a confusing discovery.  
“Wait, where she is?”

Lana blinks perplexedly and looks over her shoulder, albeit without leaving Val’s arms. The keshiri is nowhere to be seen.  
“Hmm. She was here a moment ago.”

Val ponders the events up until this second and locates the culprit. It’s so ridiculously clear-cut that she groans.  
“Dammit. It was the kiss, wasn’t it? Shit.”

“Not your fault. We-“

“No, it was.”

Val disentangles herself and enters the living room, but strolls across to the other side, in order to search the adjacent hallway. She must be somewhere nearby.  
Luckily, she doesn’t have to prolong this endeavor, as someone notices her helpless struggle.  
“Lookin’ for miss grumpy sneer?”

Veering to her right, Val encounters Bejarah who’s standing by one of the windows, a bottle of beer rotating in her fingers.  
“Yes, actually. Did you see her?”

The rattataki uses the drink to indicate a set of stairs.  
“She bolted like a sulky sleen who just lost a mate.”

The Councilor frowns at the comparison.  
“Bejarah, please…”

Her friend offers an all too sly smirk in response.  
“What? Just saying what I saw. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“You are just…” She exhales and rolls her eyes. “Never mind. Thank you for the help.”

“Happy to oblige.”

She knows what she must do now, but won’t leave without a few last words. She wanders up to Lana and kisses her more hastily than their last collision.  
“I’ll go find her and see if I can’t recover some faith. Hold the fort while I’m gone?”

Despite trepidation and doubt, Lana does give her another faint smile, enveloping her girlfriend’s cheeks in a tender grasp.  
“I will, though I don’t think it’s needed. Seems they’re having fun without us and Lashae deserves a share.”

“I know, and I’ll do my best to convince her.”

As Val ascends to the upper level of her apartment; the smooth jazz, the laughs and the cheerful conversations evaporates behind her, as she crosses into a calmer and quieter scene, a laconic realm. There are far fewer spaces to elude one’s gaze on this floor, even if it has more than a couple of rooms. The most activity this area sees is whenever either of the denizens of this apartment have research to conduct or incomplete work.  
They did recently see fit to decorate a few of these quarters specifically to accommodate three of their guests, though, which makes this search far simpler to manage.

In a dark room, close to the window drenched on the outside, she spots the keshiri resting on the adjacent wall, peering out at the gloomy sights below. It’s difficult to discern what exactly she’s most focused upon, but the rain, the illumination of the city, the endless rumbling of thunder and lightning, the looming height of the dreary Citadel – all of them are potential answers that are equally plausible. Some days, when Val just want to relax and drift out of the stress-filled reality she’s perpetually locked in, she has the habit of mimicking this behavior.

It could have been the skidding noise of the door that prodded her ears or maybe the shadow in the corner of her eye, but either way, Val gets the sense that Lashae has acknowledged her arrival. No need to announce it.  
“It’s kinda beautiful, you know. In a depressing way”, she utters in an even tone.

Val angles her body to the side and pushes the activation key to shut the door behind her, guaranteeing their privacy.  
“What is?”

“Your stupid city.”

Lashae has not moved from her position, does not deign to offer her old friend the opportunity to view her directly. Val breathes out in an effort to collect herself. This is going to be an ordeal, isn’t it?  
She extends a shrug in response.  
“It’s not actually _my_ city, you know.”

“No? I overheard your buddies talking earlier. Mentioned you’re practically the Queen of Dromund Kaas right now.”

“It’s a joke. It’s what the Outreach Bureau articles and HoloNet vids have been playfully proclaiming me as, but it’s not really the case.  
…well, I do have certain judicial and legislative institutions acquiescing to my whims, but it’s temporary. The members of the Dark Council have been forced to split, in order to cover as much territory as possible and reduce disorder.”

Lashae listens silently to begin with, but eventually shifts, barely. Her arms fold and she shakes her head.  
“The Dark Council.” She huffs. “When we were kids, they seemed so far away, like judgmental imperial gods that hated us for no apparent reason. And now? You’re one of them. It’s…fucked up.”

Val shuts her eyes briefly and then gradually strolls up to the bed, so she can sit down on its precipice.  
“I know this sounds bizarre to you, possibly even terrifying, but I promise that my motives were not what you may presume. I never meant to simply become another oppressor.  
What I’m doing here, the things I’m trying to build, it’s all to achieve change in the Empire. You probably don’t share that belief, but it is the optimal way; not merely to minimize casualties, but to advance the state of the galaxy.”

A few seconds pause follows this proclamation.  
“Don’t need to give a speech. I already know. But you’re right, I don’t agree it’s what the Empire deserves.”  
She furrows her brow, slides closer to the window and tries to hunt for any visions of people down in the dimmed streets.  
“The imps have caused too much pain, been too blind to other people’s suffering. Maybe it’s their turn to endure misery.”

Disdain is the pervading sensation in her voice, far from an unexpected aspect to Val. She has shared the same opinion once.  
“You know, in some ways, I concur. If you think I’m trying to say they should get to evade justice, you’re emphatically wrong. But there are people who are better, those with heart and compassion and avenues to change, who can help us in our pursuit.”

“Val, you’re just so…”  
Lashae stops and pinches her own nose, containing the frustration.  
“You honestly believe you can determine who’s on our side that accurately?”

“Well…not without a measure of doubt, but that won’t stop me. I think it’s still worth a try.”

Once more, a quiet gap overtakes them, as Lashae ponders the purpose of the discussion, or at least that’s what Val can surmise. Is she unwilling to yield or simply too stuck in her ways to even recognize the potential?  
Their past is saturated with arguments, of verbal clashes where either opponent refused to concede without an arduously extensive process. The only conclusion one can draw, is that the answer here is vague.

It appears Val will have to take matters into her own hands.  
“Lana isn’t as bad as you’re trying to portray her, by the way. Alright, she’s not exactly the prime example of virtue and benevolence, even within the Empire, but she is still an amicable woman. A lovely one, in fact.  
And before you try to accuse me of bias – no, my love isn’t solely based on the fact that she’s Sith.” She halts and analyzes what she just articulated. Okay, perhaps it’s worth a minor retraction.  
“…fine, maybe a small subsection of it. The interactions we share through the Force are…indescribable to non-Force users, I’m afraid. Beyond just saying they satisfy me, that is.”

Yet again, nothing. A void. Is that’s how it’s going to be from now on? Is Lashae going to ignore her until she vanishes and leaves the other woman alone? How is that fair in any-  
“I’m aware.”

Val is taken somewhat aback. Not quite the reply she had anticipated. She thought the keshiri would fight back, provide a caustic retort and jab her into an antagonized state. But no, nothing. Val is…bewildered.  
“…you do? But then…why were you so unforgiving earlier?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Lae, seriously…you called her an oppressor.”

Hesitation, a faint twitch of the nose and fidgeting with her sleeves. Yeah, she knows what she did.  
“Just…wanted to test her.”

“Test what?”

“Her rage threshold, I guess.”

Of course, she should’ve expected this. The latent reason here isn’t complex, but Val had simply hoped it wouldn’t be the truth. She had foolishly tricked herself into a false state of naivety.  
She exhales through her nose, rises and gradually approaches the opposite side of the window, setting herself down on a small table instead.  
“Do you really have to start fights all the time? Would it hurt to just…reach out for once and give them a chance? I care about you, about Lana, about everyone down there. I want you to be friends.”

Despite the closer proximity, Lashae remains resolute, gazing at the city rather than the company.  
“I didn’t come here to make friends.”

"Then why did you accept my invitation?”

The marigolds dart around probingly, doubtfully, as if to restrict themselves from facing the mirialan, but it is complicated to resist.  
Instead, she swaps subjects.  
“Staying with the Empire is foolish, Val. All this place does is shackle you.”

What’s her angle here? Is she trying to imply a transfer to an equivalent? Not really Lashae’s style, but…  
“And what would you suggest instead? Become a Jedi? You think that’s a better alternative? To inhibit my desires and emotions, and accept their suffocating guidance? That’s not who I am.”

“There are other paths. We could’ve gone together, found a life elsewhere, away from all these idiots who don’t get us. Like…even Mirial would’ve been fine with me.  
Did you know you have a family out there? I looked into it and apparently, there’s a whole thriving Nih’etat community somewhere on that world.”

Val’s eyes descend to the floor and she inhales, mustering an apt defense.  
“Yes, I’ve heard.”

“Let me take you there. I can do it. If you just discard the deprived constraints of this hellhole, you and I are free to explore everything. It’s your home.”

“Stop it, Lae. This is my home now.”

The keshiri frown not only persists, but develops, growing fiercer.  
“Is it? Is it _really_ , though? It’s not where you’re born, not where you belong, not even where you’re accepted. Can you honestly call a planet home when it doesn’t want you, doesn’t care about you and never welcomes you? Because I’d call that an emotional wasteland. You’re better than this.”

“Wrong again. It’s precisely because I hold all of these emotions, this abundance of empathy that I have to be here, Lae. I must help them evolve. After all, isn’t it better to fight than to let the world crumble around you?”

“And what if your efforts end up flopping completely? What if this planet chokes all joy and goodness from your heart, all hope you’ve ever harbored? What if Valcera dies and Imperius is all that’s left, like a fucking husk?”

Val rises to her feet again, wraps her arms around herself and waves it off with a shake of her head.  
“Nothing like that will happen. You know why? Because Lana is here. Because Ashara is here. Because Bejarah, Francine, Andronikos and all the rest, they’re all here. They support me in maintaining my true self.  
In the past, the ones who held these roles were you, Alessa, Vy’nel, Didani and Joomas. You were the women that taught me to never surrender my freedom and for that, I shall always be grateful. And this is why I asked you to come. Why can’t you share that fire of liberty with them?”

Irritation crawls onto Lashae’s expression, preventing her from fully absorbing Val’s proposal.  
“I don’t want to. What if I don’t have any interest in learning anything about Lana or the rest of your minions, huh?”

“Don’t call them that. And why not? What’s so horrendous about gaining new friends, people to trust? Is there a limit of some kind?”

“What good will that do? How will it matter in the long run? We live on the opposite sides of the galaxy. It’ll mean virtually nothing. And don’t even fucking suggest I move here. You can forget it.”

“I wasn’t-“ The Councilor halts and breathes in sharply. Keep it together, Val. Don’t let her manipulate you.  
“No one says you need to, but here is your chance to recapture the lost companionship that we once shared. I know you want to, because I can see it, practically smell it.  
And the people on the floor below? They should get the possibility to learn what I have, experience the pleasure of the amazing woman you truly are. The care, the passion, the creativity, the vigor – all of it. You can describe your vision, how you view all the faults of our society, to help them think. And I want them to hear you sing, like you did for us.”

Lashae looks unsure, torn regarding all the elements presented to her, almost on the verge of writhing. After all, where’s the harm in friendship and fresh starts? It’s not inconceivable that she could make a difference.  
She eventually shifts to Val, for the first time during this entire discussion and her face reveals overt truths, of a pertinent sense of distress. Her lips are practically quivering.

“I would sing, Val, but only for _you_. You know that. Every time I write, every time I play, every single stars-damned time my fingers stroke the keys, you’re on my mind. It’s always been you.”

The unease here is mirrored on the Councilor, as she remains undecided how to properly assess a retort. Deep in her heart, she always knew of this perspective, an explanation Lashae never had to provide and Val has never remarked upon. Back then, she wasn’t sure it was worth embracing. They were trapped by misery in every corner.  
“I could have given you a chance, Lae. I did, but you left.”

“So what? I could come back, or you can go with me. Join me and forget this nonsense.”

Val folds her arms and she is now the one to veer towards the window.  
“It’s not nonsense and I can’t. There is nothing else for me anymore, only this. I stopped believing in outside options.”

She expects another fiery retaliation, a verbal thrust, just like the forlorn days of their agonizing past, but it never arrives. Instead, Lashae reduces the distance between them and lifts her hands. One softly caresses her cheek, sliding against the smooth surface, while the other grips the chin, directing her into a suitable position. The gaze they share is fleeting, hardly even noticeable.  
And then their lips intertwine, thoroughly, fervently and unmistakably. This is not the first occasion such an interaction transpires, though it never quite had this level of potential.

Unfortunately, it isn’t reciprocated as keenly as the keshiri may have hoped and desired, albeit there is still a tinge of acceptance, giving Lashae a minor consolation.  
Once it ends, whether seconds or minutes later, she offers Val a disappointed, perhaps remorseful look and then leaves the room.

Val’s fingers linger on her own lips while she peers through the window, though her eyes are miles away by now, lost in thought. Why won’t fate ever grant her solace?


	46. Unyielding caretakers

There are few individuals that can lure or convince the Emperor’s Wrath to leave the fluctuating frontlines of war behind, in order to meet with them. Ktila is, undoubtedly, the most immediate person which holds that privilege, but she is not the only one. Darth Imperius has on occasion succeeded with the same effort, through persuasive acts, but one who never even has to exert herself at all is Zal’riva’s precious previous apprentice. When Jaesa politely requests her presence, Zal acquiesces without a sliver of reluctance.

The location she was asked to visit happened to be rather unusual, however. This appointment was related to a development in the Sphere of Sith Philosophy, the sectors of the Empire that Jaesa is now affiliated with, which is why Zal had expected something more central, a system closer to Dromund Kaas or Ziost, where this Sphere has its watchful eyes aimed at in order to root out heresy; or at least that was the focus of their vigilance in the past. Instead, Zal was directed towards Jaguada – still an important Sith world, though it wasn’t actually the planet she landed on, but a space station in orbit.

Apparently, this entire structure is partially operated by Sith Philosophy’s personnel, which is why Jaesa has been assigned into its halls. Not only is she stationed here, but she has received an office, however temporary, to conduct her missions from. At least until she can acquire something more permanent. It was news to Zal that her former apprentice had even been accepted into the Sphere to begin with, though she doesn’t necessarily disapprove. In fact, she’s filled with joy at the thought of Jaesa achieving her goals.

Currently, the twi’lek wanders around the boundaries of the facility, accommodations that can’t exactly be deemed as humungous, but neatly arranged nonetheless. She inspects the various furniture, decorations, trinkets and devices. The majority are in explicit imperial design, with its darkened, somewhat subdued aura, where the favored shades are grey, black and red; though not all pursue this theme. The human also has a few holographic displays, ornaments and smaller possessions that has to be inspired by twi’lek craftsmanship. Zal doesn’t have to stray very far to surmise who influenced those choices, as that woman is also in this room.

She gingerly runs her fingers across a coarse piece of cloth draped over a small table, a faint smile adorning her lips.  
“I like this one, and I think this place can use more of it. You know, to liven things up a little.” Her eyes travel to the other sections too, a glimmer of amusement shining through within them.  
“Also, a bit more color wouldn’t hurt.”

The other Sith Lord sits behind a metal desk in an all too vertical chair, which is taller than she is, and doesn’t look wholly comfortable. Her fingers are resting on a keyboard connected to the computer terminal that belongs to it.  
“I…suppose you have a point, master. In my defense, I haven’t been here for very long yet.”

On a wall to the left side of the room, opposite Zal, is another furniture better constructed to provide physical relief – a rather soft couch in wine-colored hues. Sprawled out in it is a prone Vette, who seems exceedingly content, her lekku lazily dangling over its edge. She releases a snort.  
“Yeah, look who’s talking.”

Zal raises her eyebrow in a combination of skepticism and playfulness as she glances over her shoulder. There is no armor in the way at this time, as she’s only in simple civilian clothes and her grey coat.  
“Excuse me? Are you saying I don’t have any artistic comprehension?”

“Dunno if you have, but if we judge your style based on the Tempest, you’re not gaining any points for fashionable expertise.”

“Well, that’s…not an unfair assessment. Suppose I might be lazy in that regard, but it can’t be solely blamed on me. You didn’t do much work either.”

“What?! Slander! Look at these quarters. You see ‘em? My idea!  
…you know, mostly. Shows that my creative capabilities are just fine and dandy.”

The taller twi’lek chuckles.  
“If you say so, Vette.” Shortly after, she shifts her attention back to Jaesa. “Dear, are you going to be here all the time from now on?”

Jaesa shakes her head.  
“Not at all. This is merely my…base of operations, I guess you might call it? I have also been assigned a ship of my own, piloted by Vette. It is, admittedly, smaller than the Tempest, though. It’s not meant for combat.”

“Yup, and we’ve already been to a couple of planets”, Vette adds proudly. “So far, it’s only to chat with some from Jaesa’s Sphere, but we’ve got other…plots going, so to speak.”

The former apprentice sighs in a slightly disappointed fashion.  
“Sadly, most of the Sith in this department have very little time for philosophical debates in our current state, what with the war and all. I sincerely hope that will change in the future.”

Zal begins to stroll somewhat aimlessly over the floor, giving the full notion some consideration.  
“Not unwarranted, in all this chaos. If you prefer, I could speak with some of my contacts, see if I can’t allocate some resou-“

Before she can finish her sentence, she’s interrupted by a noise from the door, the sound of a buzzing signal. It appears someone wishes to enter.  
Jaesa blinks perplexedly, and all eyes steer in this direction.  
“Oh.” She throws a cursory glance at the terminal screen. “I’m not expecting any guests at this hour, except for you, master. But…”

She turns to face the twi’lek, and Zal lifts her hand in acknowledging.  
“Don’t let me get in your way, dear. This is your office – you issue the commands.”

The other Sith pushes a button above the drawers, which grants access to whomever awaits outside.  
Once the door slides open, they spot a fairly short young woman. One might assume it’s a human, based on the dark brown complexion and the long black dreadlocks that are tied in a neat tail behind her, but that would be presumptuous. The white cloth band concealing the eye region, laced with sangria, points towards another conclusion. A miraluka?  
The age is undeterminable at a glimpse, though it probably wouldn’t be farfetched to suggest that she’s twenty at most. The only clearly discernible trait is that the Force surrounds her, like a carefully caressing breeze.

She holds a datapad in one hand, which her fingers barely meander across, but her face is not directed towards it. When she finally speaks, it’s in a gentle and friendly voice, joined by an overtly imperial accent of some unknown origin.  
“Excuse me for intruding, but is this the office of Lord Yarantus?”

Jaesa sighs internally, before she clears her throat to maintain vocal coherence.  
“Just Willsaam is alright. It’s my preferred title.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Sincerest apologies, my lord”, she says and bows her head calmly. “I didn’t intend to cause offense.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. May I ask why you’re here?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you could permit my entry. I have a proposition to discuss, which I believe will catch your interest.”

It’s not every day she gets Sith actually coming to her with requests, so Jaesa cannot deny some curiosity. She gestures with her hand.  
“Of course. Please, come in.”

The younger woman strolls inside and the door shuts behind her. Now that she’s illuminated by the lamps in here, her figure is more easily distinguishable. They spot the lapis blue color of her loose robes, with a tight arctic-blue sash around her waist. Her full lips have a light application of what appears to be a mahogany-colored lipstick. From her belt hangs a charcoal-colored lightsaber hilt, secured in a brass ring.

She halts a few meters away and lowers her head in an even more respectable bow.  
“It is an honor to be here, my lord. I am Ayzera Marr, former apprentice to Lord Gilivaard, member of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy.”

These sentences have several very peculiar details, which draws the attention of all the other women.  
“Whoa, hold on”, Vette tells her. “Did you say ‘Marr’ just now?”

Ayzera straightens her stance.  
“Correct.”

Zal crosses her arms over her chest.  
“Fascinating.”

From her seat, Jaesa lifts a hand.  
“Wait, go back. ‘Former’ apprentice?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here. You see, my master was killed in action a few weeks ago, in one of the battles which rages through the galaxy. I was not present for the occasion, as he had sent me on a separate errand. My tutelage is, therefore, incomplete.  
While protocol dictates that I should be assigned to a new Sith, there has regrettably not been any time for the administration to find a replacement for me. As I did not wish to simply sit and do nothing, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  
My Lord Willsaam, I am here to extend an official application to become your apprentice.”

This is, unsurprisingly, a lot of information to ingest at once and the questions are already mounting up to unnerving levels.  
In an effort to alleviate some of them, Jaesa rises, tidies her robes and trains her eyes on the presumed miraluka, surveying her bearing and posture.  
“That’s quite an introduction, certainly an arrival and presentation which opens for plenty of questions. You may have to answer some of them before I can accept.”

“Naturally. I have no qualms about providing you with all you need, my lord.”

“Good. Then, first of all, I obviously have to ask whether you have any ties to Darth Marr.”

Despite her earlier proclaimed certainty, Ayzera hesitates.  
“Erm, I…don’t know if it would be suitable for me to discuss such matters, without the Dark Lord present.”

While this is clearly Jaesa’s concern and meeting, Zal doesn’t intend to stay as an external party for long. She frowns and takes a couple of steps forward.  
“Miss Marr, do you know who I am?”

Due to Zal’s size and height, she practically towers above the miraluka, though the apprentice doesn’t physically flinch in any way. There are unmistakable hints of tentativeness within, but she controls such emotions. Her face slowly moves up and down, likely scanning this imposing lady.  
“With the…ferocious glow of the Force wrapping itself around you, and as you are in Lord Willsaam’s office, I can only presume you are the Emperor’s Wrath." She swallows. "My lord.”

“I am”, Zal confirms firmly, “and I hope you realize that refusing a query from the Emperor’s Wrath is a most inadvisable action.”

This bluster, while usually not an element that Jaesa would oppose, now makes her fairly uneasy.  
“Master, please…she came to petition me. I implore you to not interfere.”

In spite of her misgivings, Zal detects the sensation that she likely went too far. She exhales through her nose and retreats.  
“You’re right. I apologize, Jaesa. Proceed.”

The human coughs briefly and addresses her guest once more.  
“Her approach was…stern, but she isn’t incorrect. I do want to know the details of this issue.  
Maybe it would be difficult for you to explain it all, but I can’t simply take someone in who might get me in trouble with a member of the Dark Council, even if he and I are vaguely familiar with one another.”

“I swear, Lord Willsaam, that won’t be the case”, Ayzera insists.

Vette has leapt to her feet by now, or at least she’s sitting up, with her legs folded.  
“And we should just buy those assurances out of hand? I wouldn’t.”

Azyera still appears anxious, but understands the predicament at play.  
“Well, ordinarily I wouldn’t disclose this information without good reason, but…I will admit that you are someone I hope to gain the trust of. If I must prove myself, so be it.”  
She focuses fully on the human.  
“My lord, would you say, without a single shred of doubt, that these two are trustworthy?”

Jaesa nods swiftly.  
“Undeniably yes. There are no other people, with one exception, who I would depend on more.”

“Very well. Then I am willing to reveal that I am a member of the Marr family.”

Not a reply that exactly unveils all informational mists.  
“Okay, uh…then I guess the subsequent question would be, is that Darth Marr’s family?”

“Yes and no.  
I come from a long line of avid and talented Force users, first formed by the union of Grand Master Visas Marr of the Jedi Order and her wife, Meetra Surik.”

At least Vette’s eyes widen.  
“…huh? A Jedi?”

“Indeed.”  
She doesn’t utter any words, but any ambiguous concerns suddenly disperse from Zal’s visage, as she obtains measures of understanding.  
Not seeing this development in the same manner as other humanoids, Ayzera simply continues.  
“Around 300 years ago, these ancestors rebuilt the Jedi Order after its annihilation post-Jedi Civil War. Visas was elected the first Grand Master.  
A few generations after the passing of both, some 150 years ago, a faction had grown inside the confines of the Order, who wished to return to the old Jedi teachings. The disciplines, tenets and doctrines which Visas’ generation had established were, in their opinion, the ideas of a bygone era.”

Jaesa wraps arms around herself and tilts her head curiously.  
“How so?”

Ayzera’s attitude seems to marginally relax as she slips into the familiar embrace of history.  
“Visas, Meetra and the other members of the renewed Jedi Council grew up in war, were locked in the perpetual mindset of conflict. The Council a century later declared it was high time to abandon those ways.  
In this process of evolution, these Jedi believed that the Order should not just reclaim a role of moral and spiritual leadership in the Republic, but that this stage required purging of texts and holocrons in the archives which were deemed as…problematic. As you might imagine, not everyone agreed.”

“Your family resisted?”, Zal inquiries.

“It did. The Marr family – or the Marr Surik family as they were commonly known as – did not take kindly to such resolutions. They believed that their family’s history was being eradicated and, if you’ll allow me to be frank, rightly so. My ancestors restored the Order, resurrected it from the depths of the void. To utterly discard the guidance offered, because they could not handle the implications, was cowardly.  
Following this decision, the vast majority of my family cut ties with the Order, to go elsewhere. Many found solace in the Luka Sene, the Republic's political machine or other neutral organizations, while some merely vanished. Pretty much no one stayed.”

The human strokes a few fingers over her chin, starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but still lacks some in the box.  
“Hmm. So, they were with the Jedi in the past, but chose to travel to the Empire? How would they even have known? This nation was concealed for a millennium.”

Ayzera stalls for a second or two, before she opts to tackle the truth.  
“Not…quite.  
A small subsection of my family, who had taken only the name of Marr after the decision of one of Visas and Meetra’s grandsons, stole and absconded with some of these old artifacts. Included in these items were the location of the Sith Empire.  
They fled to it, in hopes that the Sith might embrace their ideals, when the Jedi wanted to jettison it all. It was, perhaps predictably, not that easy. The Sith were skeptical of a small foreign alien group coming with promised gifts of knowledge, especially as they were previously associated with the Jedi. Such concepts can only be met with scrutiny and slavery was, ostensibly, inevitable. That is, until Lord Scourge gave them amnesty.”

This angle, to two of the women present, comes out of nowhere. Jaesa arches her brow bewilderedly.  
“What? Scourge? As in, the former Wrath?”

“Precisely.”

Vette frowns and raises her hand.  
“Stop. Uh, why the hell would he protect you? Them. Whatever.”

Instead of the miraluka, the answer emerges from Zal.  
“Because he knew Visas and Meetra.”

The trio all veer towards her, taken aback by the certainty.  
“That’s…that’s correct”, Ayzera verifies.

Jaesa’s sight darts between the two, evidently not any more enlightened to the truth, the underlying truth.  
“How?”

“They were all associated with Revan, another Jedi”, says Zal.

It’s unclear whether Ayzera is deterred or merely impressed.  
“You are…well-informed, my lord. How…?”

Zal sighs and dismisses the question with a wave of her hand.  
“Don’t ask. It’s a long story.”

“I see. At any rate, this branch of the Marr line survived, thanks to Lord Scourge’s generosity, nestled in a secluded colony. They were given freedom based on the information they were willing to share, although not full rights. Those with Force sensitivity were made Sith, but not with any grand opportunities to claim power. The license to forge their own power bases was not granted and it is not until very recently that we’ve been given full authority of true Sith Lords.“

None are particularly astonished by this fact, that the Sith would apply such rigid restrictions, even in this most rare condition. There are still some curious avenues to unravel, though.  
“So, have you guys always been miraluka?”, Vette wonders. “Uh, guess that was presumptuous. Are you…?”

Ayzera dips her head in recognition.  
“Yes, I am of combined miralukan and human genes, but our entire family is not. Even my ancestors who first came here were mixed and we now consist of a variety of species. During the span of our existence, we have offered protection and freedom to many former slaves, which were integrated into the Marr tradition. I have some pureblood, twi’lek and zabrak ascendants, for example.”

Jaesa nods slowly as she listens intently, realizing that there are some paths she has to explore later.  
“Your family sounds like a rare presence of diversity and compassion in the Empire. I respect that.  
But, how does Darth Marr enter this equation?”

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot. The Dark Councilor as you now know him as, was not born in our family. To my knowledge, he was adopted several decades back. Definitely before my time.”

Zal steps back to sit down on the edge of Jaesa’s desk, albeit a flank, as to not obscure Jaesa’s view.  
“Why would that have happened?”

“Well, I cannot divulge all the specifics, for I do not know them, but from what I’ve been told he previously belonged to a powerful Sith house which was utterly demolished in a Kaggath. All traceable members were eliminated, and he ended up as the sole survivor.  
He was very young at the time of the event, no more than a boy and had nowhere to go, until my relatives found and picked him up. He pleaded for a place among them and they granted his request.  
He wasn’t only sheltered, however, but also bestowed the chance to cultivate his strength, both physically and mentally. In gratitude, he later asked for permission to bear our family’s name as his Sith title, which was also approved.  
Again, not all details are available to me, but from what I gather, he later achieved his vengeance on those who slew his own house. Apparently, Darth Vowrawn did, prior to joining the Dark Council, offer an abundance of assistance. Among other things, he aided Darth Marr with propaganda and public humiliation of his adversaries.”

They notice how Zal chuckle and roll her eyes.  
“Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

Now that any tension has seemingly subsided, Jaesa leaves the position behind her desk, walks over to the opposite side and displays a smile towards the miraluka.  
“I hadn’t anticipated a story such as this, but I’m grateful you conveyed it. This sets up another question, though – why come to me?”

Ayzera turns to her, shifting the arms behind her back.  
“Well, I primarily placed you at the front of my list after studying your beliefs, your official proposals and stated desires for the future of the Empire. It would seem we share a goal.  
Ever since our arrival, the Marrs have embodied an ideology outside of the established faiths and conventional customs – we stand in between the Light and Dark sides. It is a revered tradition and fundamental creed, which we will not discard.  
By investigating your records, you – and by extension, Lord Wrath – appear to hold the same ideas. Technically, I do not own the right to choose my master, but as I am in a state of transition, I believe you have the legal ability to recruit me, should you prefer.”

Hearing this angle brightens Jaesa’s mood even further and she lessens the distance between them.  
“If this is true, then you’ve convinced me, miss Ayzera. I would be very glad to give you the opportunity to demonstrate your potential. If you don’t mind, I’d like to conduct a few physical and mental trials. I have no doubts you’ll show just how qualified you are.”

Ayzera mirrors her likely new master’s expression.  
“You are most gracious, Lord Y-…Willsaam. I am humbled by your kindness.”

On the sidelines, Zal’s own lips curl in a moderately wistful fashion. She gains an odd sense of…pride settling in. A couple of seconds later, she feels how someone nudges an elbow into her side and notes how Vette has joined her.  
“They grow up fast, huh?”

Zal stares at her with both amusement and bemusement.  
“Vette, we’re practically the same age.”

“Shh. Lemme have this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _First of all, I must give credit to tumblr user[malavaisquinn](http://malavaisquinn.tumblr.com/) or Leilukin, for inspiring me with the idea of her Marr legacy character [Rhiena](http://malavaisquinn.tumblr.com/search/rhiena), who also became an apprentice of Jaesa, though with different circumstances and background story._
> 
> _I've actually been sitting on this information for months, because I've had the Marr Surik's legacy structured since like, last year when I wrote "Visions Of Devastation", my post-KotOR fic, but I didn't have any avenues to expand on it within this particular series until recently. The original plan was to introduce her at some point in "Tandem Triumvirate", but as that one hadn't nearly caught up with the pace of this series, it was more appropriate to explore her here. And, inadvertently, I expanded on Darth Marr's background too. I mean, it wasn't completely unintentional, but...yeah, this was mostly about the family._   
>  _I should also thank my friend[bemusedsmuggler](https://bemusedsmuggler.tumblr.com/) for giving me feedback regarding the ideas about Darth Marr. Including Vowrawn in the act of vengeance was her contribution, for example._
> 
> _So yeah, both Kira and Jaesa now have a student each, which was always the plan. Ayzera, like Baeleki, will appear as minor/secondary characters later on. Sadly, I don't currently have a screenshot or other depiction of Ayzera, but I'll see if I can solve that in the future._


	47. Dire torrents

A dimly lit room in the depths of the capital’s heart, illuminated by nothing more than the simulated portrayals of combat, flashing numbers and estimations. Together, they show a rather grim future, an avoidable consequence of the last few years’ events and actions. One may lament the opportunities that went adrift during the process of getting to this point, but those with enough sense would likely claim that it’s far too late for regrets now. It’s time to make a stand, to steer towards a more adequate target.

Beneath the stringent and emotionless veneer of his exterior, Darth Marr lets his eyes dart back and forth across the sights before him. In the bowels of the Imperial Citadel on Dromund Kaas, his mask is directed towards the holographic display on a table, waiting to see what it means to depict.  
Next to him stands a young pureblood woman, one of his apprentices by the name of Nidesa Evintok. She is not particularly tall, definitely shorter than him, with short black hair tilted unevenly to the left. Blood red skin and orange eyes intermingle with rows of small golden piercings across her nose, neck and the edge of her lips. She only occasionally touches the tiny protruding spurs from her jaw in thought.  
She is the one who has emitted the most words during her report. She relays data regarding troop movements, information gathering and resource deficiency.

Eventually, he interrupts her quite abruptly.  
“Is this all we have been able to accumulate on the subject, after all this time?”

Nidesa hesitates, though she doesn’t look afraid. A personal dissatisfaction, perhaps.  
“Sadly, yes. This has been the extent of it so far.” She bows her head in reverence. “I apologize for the inadequacy, my lord.”

Marr merely dismisses it with a brief wave.  
“No matter. We shall have to adapt and formulate another strategy before we proceed. Hopefully, our allies shall seal the fate of this mission.”

The young woman straightens her stance and places her hands behind her back.  
“I concur. Shall I prepare contingencies for the fleet, in case of a failure, master?”

The Dark Councilor stands with his arms folded, still watching the digital feed rather than his apprentice. It takes him a few seconds of consideration, before he shakes his head.  
“No, it is best to wait and observe how the situation develops. Do inform them of the increased defensive efforts, however.”

“As you command, my lord.”

Shortly after this, the door to the room slides open with a slight hiss and another woman strolls inside, perhaps the shortest within the area. Valcera is wrapped in a sturdy set of sangria and white robes, with plate attachments over her shoulders, chest, abdomen and arms. The denizens had already detected her presence, the aura of grace, power and gravity around her. She’s not alone either, as her bodyguard Khem Val lingers outside.

The mirialan smiles as she notices the young woman.  
“Nidesa, good to see you.” She approaches the pureblood rather casually and informally, placing a gentle peck on her cheek.

Nidesa returns the expression to a milder degree.  
“You too, my lord. As elegant as ever.”

“How are you doing? Must be quite a chore working under the relentless demands of your master”, she jokes, not even remotely deterred by the fact that Marr is standing next to her. The other Councilor says nothing.

Nidesa chuckles, though there is a latent unease below. She can’t be quite as dismissive, of course.  
“Never. It is a constant and singular honor to serve under Darth Marr.”

Val rolls her eyes.  
“I’m sure that’s what he instructs you to tell everyone. Oh well.  
Ah, and your brother is doing well, by the way. I haven’t dispatched him to any of the frontlines, as I need him elsewhere. He does express his concern for you, however.”

The younger woman shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Sevatan is like that, but I don’t need his fussing. I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all. If you weren’t so attached to your current master, I would recruit you myself. I do have a vacant position at this time…”, she mentions with a playful wink.

Nidesa attempts to face it with equal tenacity.  
“And I am confident you will find someone worthy to fill it, Dark Lord.”

“Bah.”

Marr still hasn’t turned directly towards either of them, but addresses one regardless.  
“Apprentice, give us some privacy.”

He receives a deeper bow than before in response.  
“Naturally, master. I shall remain outside until you are ready to depart.”

Once she leaves the room, Marr waits for his fellow Dark Lord to approach the table properly and walk over to the opposite end of it. As she enters his vision, he turns his mask towards her. As immutable as ever.  
“How is Dromund Kaas treating you thus far, Imperius?”, he asks flatly. He’s not one for small talk, but he understands courtesies. And they are, technically, allies. “So much unchallenged power on this world. I hope it isn’t consuming your good judgment.”

Val snorts at his claim.  
“Unchallenged? It’s far from without complications, I’ll have you know. Far too many are opposed to the idea of an alien sitting on the Council to begin with and ruling the capital is nigh unthinkable for them. I do my best to quell any resistance from those with the lack of respect for the change I try to bring, but they are persistent. For now.”

“To be expected. Don’t let the authority get to your head, however. Eventually, this crisis will wane, and the gazes of the Dark Council shall return.”

She waves her hand annoyedly at such implications.  
“An inane and pointless statement, Marr. By now, you should know what I intend for this nation and I have little interest in churlish power plays. The Empire needs progress and I will pound this idea into its people until they comprehend. You aren’t against such measures, are you?”

There’s a brief shrug, barely noticeable.  
“Not really, as long as it doesn’t obstruct our ability to defend ourselves.  
Which, conveniently, is the very reason I asked you to come. We have important matters to discuss and time is, regrettably, in rather short supply.”

The pleasantries are already over, huh? She should’ve figured they’d be short-lived.  
“Then waste no more of it.”

He doesn’t and charges headlong into the topic at hand.  
“We are losing this war.”

Now that she thinks about it, he really doesn’t know what ‘go easy’ means, does he? Val is flabbergasted by this unambiguous approach.  
“That was blunt.”

“There is no purpose to pretense, as it is the truth. Barring the miraculous or the unexpected, the Empire’s ultimate defeat will occur within a year, two at most. Those are the estimates.”

The mirialan stares at him incredulously, prior to shifting away and beginning to pace over her side of the table.  
“Is that so? Some pretty accurate approximations you have there, if we truly are losing the war.”

“Let me allay any doubts by saying that we are _losing_ , but we have not _lost_. It is a slow and arduous process, but inevitable. With the Republic and the New Empire continuously hounding us, there are few avenues of revision which we can exploit. Had we only one foe to contend with, the damage could have been contained, but Malgus’ secession drained not just our personnel, but power, resources and morale. Coupled with increased veering of the battlefields in the Republic’s favor, I can see little use for maneuvers outside of going on the defensive. This cannot last forever.”

A rather bleak prospect to be sure, but is it really that startling? After so much infighting and constant setbacks, this outcome should have been anticipated.  
“Hmm. That is unfortunate and fairly disheartening. By the sound of things, there appears to be only one path to pursue – peace. Malgus will never give in, but the Republic might. They didn’t ask for this war, but certain sections of the Dark Council goaded them into it.”

Marr ponders the proposal for a few moments, before he lowers his arms.  
“While the latter may be true, I have serious reservations regarding the potential of such actions, especially with Chancellor Saresh in charge. She might not be a warmonger per se, but she has no love and little respect for the Empire. If she tracks down a weakness, she will strike relentlessly.  
If peace is a result we truly wish to pursue, it is attainable solely by having a bargaining chip, an irrefutable one. We have virtually nothing the Republic would want, but there is something which we may be able utilize to repel their attacks.”

“Oh? You have a secret weapon, Marr?”

“Of sorts. I hope you can still recall what I briefly mentioned on our last Council meeting.”

Val attempts to remind herself of the contents in that assembly, though most of what she retains is the arguments and Arkous’ rise.  
“Hmm. Some kind of…material.”

“Isotope-5.” He leans towards the table and pushes a button, making the projector display another image. A chemical composition, streams of information and some recorded footage materialize.

Val doesn’t recognize much. To be honest, she has little interest in science.  
“Ah, yes, I remember now. I also recall that you mentioned needing more time to investigate. Has this been conducted?”

“It has, and the conclusion is intriguing.  
Isotope-5 is a peculiar substance, a mineral capable of twisting gravity and electromagnetic fields to astounding levels, far above any other element we’ve ever encountered. One gram could provide a near infinite power source, to fuel ships, weapons, shields and much more. It could bolster the Empire back to an imposing status and alleviate the pressure from the Republic.”

This does seem very impressive and Val will definitely consent that it sounds good. Too good.  
“An excellent find then, ostensibly. But nothing like this ever comes without a price. There has to be a catch.”

“An astute observation and of course, you are correct. The difficulty lies in obtaining this substance.  
As far as all our scouts and intelligence gatherers have witnessed, there is only one source for isotope-5 – the planet Makeb in the Mid Rim, on the fringes of hutt space. It has remained outside of the war, due to a lack of strategical and material value. Until now.”

Val arches her brow skeptically.  
“Okay, then why haven’t we already gained access to it? Sounds like a world you could easily contact, even invade, though I would not recommend the latter.”

“Because we were not the ones who made the discovery – the Hutt Cartel did, and they guard the planet jealously.”

“What? Are we suddenly afraid of gangsters and syndicate scum, Marr? The hutts’ societal system is only marginally less deplorable than the Empire’s. Can’t we simply attack them? It’s what we usually do.”

“If we could, you and I would not be standing here. Invasion was first on the agenda, but that was quickly evaluated to be ineffective. The hutts have truly mustered a monumental amount of forces in its orbit and we believe they may already be partially reinforced by isotope-5.  
A battle on Makeb would be too dangerous and deplete a sizeable number of our troops, more than we can spare, when we are already on the brink of total collapse.”

It’s not that Marr isn’t ever cautious or anything, but he is still a Sith, one who can exhibit a measure of arrogance, just like most of their Order. That even he would be too concerned to consider this idea, indicates that they are genuinely in trouble.  
“That is…disconcerting. Do you have another solution?”

“I do. In order to succeed, we need to employ methods of guile and subtlety. My analysts and I believe that we can use a team to infiltrate, assess the planet’s available stockpile and swipe the fuel without the hutts’ notice. It is the only way. Perhaps we will not gain the entire depository of what the hutts are attempting to mine, but it should be enough for us to build upon.  
This will be a mission of stealth, with the ultimate goal to secure the Empire’s survival. It will take sacrifice and skill. We can only include the very best.”

“Well, that is overly dramatic, but I acknowledge the purpose.”  
A slight pause follows this statement, as if Marr lets her ingest the details and the notion. Val does, but after she’s done contemplating, she looks at him with increased doubt.  
“Wait, you’re not trying to imply that I should go, are you?”

“No. That would be a hasty and foolish decision. We’ve already lost enough leaders as it is. Risking any further is absurd.”

“Right. Well, that’s…good. I assume you already have candidates then?”

“Indeed.” Another switch and more floods of information.  
“I have assembled a team of capable scientists, black ops troops and engineers, which shall come together and solve the dilemma. I trust in their judgment.  
I have added an officer you should already be familiar with – Katha Niar.”

“The woman who worked with my…agent?”

“Precisely. I have assigned her as this mission’s coordinator, based on her merits and success.”

“Are you looking for further recommendations? In that case, I propose you talk to Lord Cytharat.”

Marr halts for another few seconds.  
“Malgus’ former apprentice?”

“He’s more than that. His tactical knowledge and battle expertise could be invaluable. From what he has told me, the pretend Emperor even continued to exploit some of the strategies which Cytharat constructed.”

“Hmm. I suppose we do not yet have a tactical advisor. It can be arranged, but it’s insufficient to fulfill this team’s purpose. To actually triumph, we will require two individuals to lead and their accompanying crews – Lord Wrath and Cipher Nine.”

Val strokes a few fingers around her chin, both intrigued and amused.  
“Ambitious choices.”

“I believe the term you’re searching for is ‘wise’. Wrath is one of the Empire’s most powerful Sith Lords who is not restricted to a particular location nor any political leanings. She is not simply the Emperor’s tool, but the personification of the Empire’s strength.  
Cipher Nine is, while currently a freelancer, an ally we can trust and one with enough experience pertaining to the penetration of these types of defenses, which none can match.”

Val chuckles and raises a hand to prevent further explanation.  
“Don’t worry, I know both of them quite well and can see why you would prefer to implement their abilities into your mission. But why are you talking to me about this? Do you want my permission?”

If she could see him rolling his eyes, that would likely be her current sight. He crosses his arms once more.  
“Do not feign ignorance, Imperius. You should already realize the complication. I can speak with them myself, without question, but I speculate that your persuasive disposition will aid me with convincing them of the paramount nature of this project.”

Her delight only increases with his aggravation and a smirk now finds its way onto her lips.  
“You want me to charm them?”

“I want you to make them see the benefit of participating. They trust you and all I require is your compliance.”

Val suppresses a laugh, before she shrugs.  
“It’s funny that you would come to me with this, but I don’t mind. Very well, I’ll call them both. Who knows, maybe I can get you Jaesa in the same deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So yeah, we're finally going to Makeb. Some important stuff is gonna happen there, though it won't involve every section of the in-game expansion._   
>  _If you're confused about Nidesa, I have a screenshot of her[here](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/secondary-swtor-character-pics.html). She's the little sister of my smuggler's girlfriend Lenorr, who appeared in "Price Of A Sun's Kiss". Her apprenticeship to Marr was established in that one, but I had to put her in here somewhere as well, as she will continue to be at his side from time to time. Vowrawn also mentioned her at some point, but only briefly._


	48. In fallow inquiry

While the Emperor’s Wrath is often permitted to come and go as she pleases, there are occasions where her preferred movements can be superseded by emotional means, if not legal. She has no duty to follow such declarations, if she wishes to ignore them, but that can have repercussions on a personal and friendship level. She wouldn’t willingly deny her companions.

Zal’riva can currently be located in the orbit of Dromund Kaas within her ship, the Tempest, as it is docked with a minor space station, though she’s not alone. At her side is her beloved girlfriend Ktila, who eagerly accepted the request when it was sent to her. This must be the third time it has happened as of late.  
Ktila must admit that she considers it somewhat ironic how she has practically become a regular visitor at this stage, despite her mission to kill the Emperor just a few years ago, on this very world. Then again, few in the Dark Council really have much love for their so-called master.

While she may have been excited to accompany her girlfriend, some reluctance did enter Ktila’s heart when she noticed the chosen planet, but she was relieved that their host suggested an orbital encounter and not planetside. She’s still fairly rattled after her investigation of the Dark Temple and the last thing she’d want to experience right now is another trip saturated with dark side energy. Might take some time before she changes her mind.

Neither the chiss nor Zal are equipped with armor today, but Ktila has chosen to wear the grey shawl which Zal got her months ago, an object usually utilized to prove their connection, due to its matching color with the twi’lek’s coat.  
Other than that, the former Jedi is adorned with white and sky blue robes, which is wrapped around her body in a loose fashion. The fabric is soft, smooth and comfortable. She has also tied her hair into a long braided ponytail and while they’re standing around in the central room of the ship, she’s being indecisive about what to do with it. She keeps swapping locations for the tail, between dangling down her back and resting on either of her shoulders.

Meanwhile, Zal silently observes her, getting increasingly amused by the fussing. Eventually, she figures that someone has to break the silence.  
“You know, if your body won’t suffice, I can always hold your hair for you, dear.”

Ktila furrows her brow and stares up at her girlfriend.  
“…you think this is funny, huh?”

Zal shrugs nonchalantly.  
“You are quite cute when you fidget.”

Being made fun of isn’t something that improves her mood in this occasion and Ktila both sighs and shakes her head.  
“I’m just not sure what to do with myself. I’m rarely this nervous and when we met with the rest of the Dark Council, it wasn’t that hard to remain composed, but…”

Her sentence goes adrift and Zal tilts her head curiously, lekku curling due to a similar reaction.  
“…but?”

“Well, this is your friend and a close one at that. This is the first chance we’ve had to talk. I want to…make a good impression.”  
She pinches her nose in tentative fashion.  
“I’m still not clear on why she even called for me.”

“Hey, I’m in the same boat. She did mention that she could provide no details, not yet. It is apparently a private affair. We’ll just have to wait.”

Ktila breathes out through her nose.  
“Yeah, I guess.”

Hoping to provide some calming notions, Zal strokes a hand in slow soothing motions over Ktila’s back.  
“But there’s no need to fret, dear. You’re as gorgeous as ever.”

The previous skepticism now grows to heightened levels.  
“You’re a biased judge, Zal. Doesn’t count.”

“So? Isn’t my opinion the one that matters?”

“Not if your friend laughs at me.”

Zal smiles, puts a hand under Ktila’s chin and gently tilts it up.  
“No one would ever do that to you, darling. If anything, she’ll be jealous.”

Shortly thereafter, she leans down, shuts her eyes and locks their lips in a tender, yet deep kiss, motions that emanate with warmth and adoration. It isn’t just to prove her point, but to grant a moderate amount of solace to the chiss. It helps, marginally. At least it pulls Ktila into her, as the former Jedi slides her hands over her girlfriend’s abdomen and snakes them around the waist. If they have a moment to spare, there’s no reason to spoil it.

Unfortunately, this is done simultaneously as their guest enters the ship and promptly strolls into the area.  
“Don’t devour the lady, Zal. Not sure what the Jedi Order would feel if you ruined their precious prodigy.”

Both of the other women are mildly surprised, as they hadn’t noticed the approach, but as they veer in this direction, their gazes fall upon a shorter and curvier woman. The mirialan wears more reinforced pieces than they do, but her black and lavender robe is likely from a comparable material.  
Zal merely aims a smirk towards her.  
“You don’t have to share your fantasies with us, ‘lord’ Imperius.”

Valcera has her hands placed at her hips and her eyebrow raised in doubt.  
“Fantasy? Pfff, you wish.”

“I may not, but the propaganda certainly does. Noticed some rumormongering on the HoloNet recently. They’re really enamored with our potential affair.”

“Well, the people must have something to gossip about, I suppose, no matter how ludicrous it is.”  
Once she wanders up to them, she pokes Zal’s side in a playful fashion, before they end up in a friendly embrace. Afterwards, she turns to Ktila and inspects the chiss with keen eyes. She narrows the distance, takes the Jedi’s hand and kisses the back of it.  
“An honor to finally meet you, miss Ktila. Zal was correct regarding one thing – I am jealous, but it’s aimed at her, for having such lovely company.”

The gesture makes Ktila giggle.  
“Ah, yeah. Zal told me about your charm.”

“Notorious across the Empire”, the twi’lek jokes.

“I apologize that it has taken this long to grant you an audience”, the Councilor informs Ktila. “Normally, I would’ve pounced on the first opportunity, but my situation in the Empire has been very hectic as of late.”

Luckily, Ktila doesn’t seem worried, as she shrugs it off.  
“That’s okay, I don’t mind, nor do I blame you. I understand what the escalated war has meant for the Empire and it’s part of why I decided to assist. Well…it was still mostly for Zal, but I tried my best to help out.”

“Indeed and I want to personally extend the gratitude of the Dark Council and the Empire to you. There was not enough done on our part to relay this sentiment, despite the fact that your actions may have helped to guarantee our victory.”

This might be slight embellishment, as it’s difficult to evaluate how the battle could’ve ended if their commander died, but they have to acknowledge Ktila’s achievements regardless.  
“I did receive a brief message from Darth Marr which sort of mentioned something similar, but I have to admit that it wasn’t as genuine as one could’ve hoped for.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard, but you shouldn’t feel offended by it. Most of the Council, Marr in particular, can be remarkably…terse with displays of appreciation and unnecessarily convoluted. It’s the inherent nature of the Sith Order.”

“Trust me, I know. I’ve had enough clashes with your organization by now to be very familiar with their behavior, barring people like you, Zal, Jaesa or Ashara.”

“Nevertheless, we are immensely thankful for your actions, miss Ktila. In fact, if you’re ever interested, we could definitely use someone of your caliber and disposition in the Empire. I could make some arrangements, to skip any initiation rituals. You shouldn’t have to be viewed as an apprentice, of course.”

Ktila shares a brief look with her girlfriend, who’s growing similarly smug.  
“We do have space”, Zal infers.

It makes the chiss laugh.  
“You two are relentless, huh?  
Thank you for the offer, my lord, but I work best when I’m unaffiliated.”

Val’s lips are curled, though she does shrug in slight disappointment.  
“Had to try, didn’t I?  
I do hope this won’t be the last occasion we meet, however. There is so much left I’d want to discuss, of less work-related topics. If we ever get the opportunity in the future, I’d love for you to meet Lana as well. Perhaps on a double date?”

“Hah. A double date with three Sith? That would definitely be an experience.”

Zal is also humored by the suggestion, her eyes trained on Val.  
“Don’t plan anything depraved afterwards.”

“Pardon?”, the Councilor asks skeptically. “I believe you’re projecting, darling.”

“In any case, I’d love to”, Ktila confesses. “Well, as long as we keep it low-key. Don’t think any of us need even more wild rumors over the HoloNet, but I would certainly like to spend more time with one of Zal’s best friends.”

“Splendid! I shall speak with Lana, see that she agrees. I’m confident she will.”

“Before we get too distracted, perhaps you can talk about why we’re here? I’m still very curious why you called us in with such secrecy. Can I presume it has something to do with the war?”

Despite a short wave of regret, Val soon lets the gravity of the situation clasp onto her and her expression grows serious.  
“You have an astute mind, for it does concern the war, but also the integral nature of the Empire’s safety. In fact, I could say that this is top secret.”

Ktila blinks perplexedly.  
“Oh. Then uh, why did you invite me?”

Val leaves her arms behind her back and takes a deep breath.  
“I know that this likely confuses you, but after what you have done for us, I trust you. After all, you helped save Marr and Zal. That makes you an undeniable ally. But eh, just to be sure, let’s not notify the rest of the Dark Council, shall we?”, she winks.  
“First on the agenda, I have both intel and a proposition for you, Zal.”

The twi’lek tilts her head and one of her lekku wraps around her arm.  
“Alright. Lay it on me.”

“The Empire is in a dire state. Despite all that we’ve done to endure, our defeat is no longer a distant eventuality, but a conclusion in the not-so-distant future.”

It appears Ktila is not the only one to get bemused today, as Zal shares this reaction right now.  
“What? How can that be? I’ve not heard any indications to this end. Sure, we’re in a tough spot, but defeat?”

“I know, I thought the same, but Marr was quite insistent.  
Malgus’ secession hit us much harder than many would like to concede, and he has focused the majority of his subsequent hostile efforts against us. We must find a solution for this predicament, and soon.”

Zal’s humor has completely evaporated, a facet that Ktila becomes abundantly aware of through their bond. She squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, to show her support, which the twi’lek appreciates.  
“Since you summoned me, can I assume we have one?”

“We do. Sort of.  
Marr is putting together a task force, with the ultimate goal to accomplish this endeavor. I can’t provide the details, but he wants you in it. This would take you on a journey to the world of Makeb.”

The purple eyes of the twi’lek dart around searchingly, but doesn’t lock onto any answers.  
“…Makeb? Never heard of it.”

“Neither had I, until he clued me in. Suffice it to say, that world has a highly strategical value and it must somehow be diverted into our possession.”

“He wants me to lead a strike force?”

“No, not in that sense. An actual strike won’t be possible, due to the extensive number of Hutt forces guarding the world from orbit. We will need to employ subtlety and infiltration measures to succeed. Marr wishes you to co-lead the mission and he recruited me to convince you. Even though I don’t lack misgivings for this task, I do believe in the purpose of the mission.”

The two Sith stare at one another, trying to silently and mentally convey their emotions, to let the other know where they stand. Eventually, Zal nods.  
“Very well. If it’s important to the Empire’s survival, you shall have me.” She suddenly pauses and mentally reverses. “But, wait…did you say ‘co-lead’?”

Val snorts in mild amusement.  
”Noticed that, did you? Yes, you won’t be the sole commander. Marr also requested the presence of Cipher Nine as the second leader. I know you’re familiar with her.”

The twi’lek ponders this aspect and folds her arms, gaining a fairly thoughtful look. She isn’t the only one either, as Ktila seems to grow wary as well.  
“Hmm. I am, yes. We’re acquainted on multiple occasions, we’ve performed a few favors back and forth, and a degree of trust exists, but…I’ve never actually worked with her directly. All interactions have been ancillary in the past.”

“So you’re opposed to the idea?”

“I didn’t say that.” She strokes her chin in a contemplative fashion. “Has she accepted?”

“She has.”

Zal rolls her eyes.  
“Hmph. You contacted her first, did you? Some friend you are.”

Val meets this accusation with a small smirk.  
“Now who’s jealous?  
We have an established network between each other already, so she was much simpler to address.”

“Excuses.” Zal spreads her arms in a defeated shrug. “But, fine. If this is critical, I’ll work with her. Pounding some hutts into the dirt doesn’t sound like a boring venture at all. I’ll look forward to seeing if we can accomplish this together.”

After the deal has been made, Ktila injects herself into the conversation again.  
“Did you need my assistance as well?”

Val turns to face her, with a faintly softer gaze.  
“I do, but it is unrelated to Makeb. Instead, I’m personally setting up a second mission simultaneously, one that I’ve not yet informed Marr of. It was jointly coordinated with Cipher Nine.”

Zal starts to grin.  
“Plotting behind his back, are you? I like it.”

“Tsk. This doesn’t have anything to do with current members of the Dark Council.”

“Current?”

The mirialan crosses her arms.  
“Correct. Cierah has recently located details regarding the secret hideout of Darth Decimus, one of Malgus’ lackeys that abandoned us for the New Empire. She has produced a strategy for how we can efficiently eliminate him. It is our belief that you would be essential for its success, miss Ktila.”

Certainly an interesting proposal, but Ktila’s reaction is ambivalent.  
“Eliminate? You’re talking about…assassination?”

“Hmm. That is a very crude word…but not necessarily imprecise.  
Look, I realize what this sounds like and that you may not just be hesitant regarding being on our payroll, but to perform a task in this manner. Before you get too hasty, consider the outcome. Destroying Decimus would be beneficial for the Republic too, if that’s any comfort. And has he not harmed and hampered the Republic on numerous occasions? If he gains the upper hand, he will repeat his actions. Here is your chance to stop him, once and for all.”

Ktila follows the advice and scrutinizes the proposal, what it entails. This isn’t just a Republic concern, but a personal one.  
“Well, Decimus did damage and hold my homeworld in his grasp for quite a while, that’s true.”

Val actually looks surprised at the remark.  
“You’re from Corellia?”

“Yep. It would be a kind of poetic justice for a Corellian to strike him down.”

The Councilor smiles and snorts curtly.  
“All the more reason to participate in this mission, then.  
The team I’ve assembled is smaller than the Makeb crew, as it will mostly involve you and another group, where you will act as the co-commander.”

“Another consolidated leadership, is it?”

“Indeed. Tell me, do you know anything about the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt?”

Ktila lifts her hand to correct her bangs.  
“Jovana Vlasic? I know her name, but we haven’t met. At least not as far as I recall.”

“Well, here’s your chance. I managed to recruit the mandalorian through Cipher Nine, who agreed to the specifics.”

“You told her that she’d be working with me?”

“I did, and she had no objections."

Ktila scratches her neck and swiftly ponders the implications. Working with a mandalorian? That would be a first.  
“Huh. Well, in that case, I’m not going to be worse. I accept.”

“Marvelous”, Val states excitedly. “Zal, can you speak with Jaesa? I understand she isn’t directly associated with you anymore, but I doubt I have to explain how valuable her abilities will be on your assignment.”

“Sure”, Zal agrees. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The former Jedi glances between them and feels a thought popping into her head.  
“Wait, wouldn’t it be better if Jaesa came with our team? Sounds to me like Zal and Cierah aim to acquire some type of assets, while we’re dealing with people. Jaesa would be much more useful with us.”

“Hmm, I hadn’t considered that”, Val admits. “But now that you mention it, it is a decent point.”

In the meantime, Zal arches her brow.  
“Hang on, are you trying to steal my apprentice?”

Ktila emits a chuckle.  
“Former apprentice, right? And I’m not! But we can trade, can’t we? I’ll ask Kira to join your team. In fact, that’d be a pretty interesting opportunity to test how well we cooperate.”

Unfortunately, Zal’s incredulity only grows with this angle.  
“…this isn’t a field trip.”

Ktila smiles and playfully bumps her shoulder into her girlfriend’s side.  
“Tsk. I know that! But with this exchange, we could broaden our abilities and adaptability.”

Zal sighs and scratches her nose.  
“I’m not sure that’s wise, darling. Jaesa and I have a connection, a bond.”

Suddenly, Ktila gets an idea. If she can’t make her see the benefit, maybe competition will work?  
“I see. Well, if you don’t think you can handle it…”

In a ridiculous rapid way, Zal trades her doubt for a glare and sly smile.  
“…oh, you cunning little nexu. Fine, we’ll swap. But don’t start weeping when we finish miles ahead of you.”

Ktila displays a similar expression, but in a more joyful manner, while entwining their fingers.  
“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, this story is now splitting into two and a half mini-arcs, sort of. Makeb (with Zal and Cierah + companions, Kira, Katha and Cytharat), the hunt for Decimus (with Ktila and Jovana + companions and Jaesa) and then some personal stuff for Val and Lana. The last one doesn't have a set goal, but it'll hopefully be entertaining too._


	49. Rekindled hope

Valcera has, for most of her rather short career, tried to maintain a flexible view of her subordinates’ schedules. She’s well aware of how much is expected of them and they can’t allow themselves to fall behind, but to overwork with them is just as ill-advised and she actively tries to counter this outcome. Unfortunately, she doesn’t give herself the same leniency, certainly not when she has an unprecedented number of tasks to complete. So why did she permit her girlfriend to abscond with her like this?

Without explaining the purpose, Lana managed to convince Val to join her at the spaceport in the periphery of the jungles outside Kaas City. The traffic in and around this facility is pretty hectic on a practically daily basis, but the personnel seems to have most matters under control. A large reason why they achieve this amount of discipline is probably the Sith from various Spheres that have been assigned to supervise the area. Customs apparently needed reinforcements.

Sadly, Val cannot be described as being in a particularly pleasant mood and therefore isn’t impressed by the display. In fact, she’s filled with anxiety and a modicum of frustration. She doesn’t have time for this.  
“Lana, can you stop stalling and tell me why we’re here already? Do you know how busy I am today?”

“Yes, I know.”

Despite this concession, the human keeps holding her hand and dragging her deeper into the building.  
“I have at least eight scheduled meetings in five separate locations.”

“I know.”

“And if I don’t get there in time, they’ll start without me.”

_“I know.”_

“Which, I shouldn’t have to explain, will end in exceedingly-“

Lana smiles, swirls around and lifts her hands to gently cup Val’s cheeks, looking deeply into those gorgeous blue eyes. Their faces are no more than a few inches apart.  
“Listen, I am well aware of how unavailable you tend to be, darling. I’m the one who helps Francine manage your schedule, lest you forget.”

Val sighs and ignores the fact that they’re in a rather public setting right now. Not that she minds per se, but she also tends to avoid intimacy when others are watching. Don’t want to divulge too much weakness.  
“Then why do insist on stealing my time regardless?”

“Because I promise what we have to do today is critical. You’ll agree with me, I swear.”

She stated something similar before they arrived, which was pretty much the only reason why Val assented to come in the first place.  
“And what is this crucial activity, pray tell?”

Lana tries to quell most of the smug notions which desire to seep out of her, but her smile does widen somewhat.  
“You’ll see.”

“Lana! You can’t keep saying that!”

“I can.”

“No! No, you can’t! You have to tell me! I’m leaving if you don’t.”

The human chuckles and gently strokes the back of her fingers over Val’s cheek.  
“But if I do, this event will be spoiled for you and you will want to experience it in a fresh state, I promise.”

Val is growing increasingly vexed and perplexed.  
“Event? In the bloody spaceport?”

“Yes.”

“What gives you the ludicrous idea that there’s _anything_ enthralling around this place?”

“Call it…intuition.”

“What? That’s not-“ She stops and groans, sensing how a headache is starting to affect her. She hates playing games. Well…games where she is the recipient, anyway.  
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t depart this instant.”

Lana searches her lover’s frustrated expression and can see that she isn’t jesting. Unless something prevents her, Val will take off. Perhaps Lana did go a little bit too far.  
Wishing to make amends, she leans closer and pushes her lips onto Val’s in a most avid fashion, while also slipping an arm around her waist to hold her, allowing their bodies to intermingle. She hopes to be invited and even though every segment of Val’s being tells her not to encourage it, she still opens her mouth and lets Lana inside. The human immediately seizes upon this opportunity and deepens the kiss, her tongue accessing and doing its utmost to appease the Councilor. Simultaneously, her hand slides down the lovely frame, which Val enjoys.

Eventually, whether seconds or minutes later, it ends. Val may have been moderately stunned at the display, but she doesn’t get completely overcome with passion.  
“…did you think that would actually work?”

The advisor shrugs casually.  
“I had to try, didn’t I? Kept you distracted, at least.”

“Not fair.”

Thankfully, no more delaying tactics need to be conducted, as they suddenly hear how one of the Sith supervisors raises his voice.  
“Hey, you! Stop right there!”

The duo turns in this direction and sees how a male pale-skinned human called towards one of those waiting in line at the registry consoles. His target is shorter person wearing tawny-colored robes and a hood that covers their head.  
“Pardon?”, the person asks in a softer tone.

“Stay where you are”, he says and then gestures at some of the inspection drones nearby. “Follow me.”  
The guest appears somewhat unnerved, but doesn’t pull down their hood as they’re approached, which doesn’t exactly decrease the suspicion, but they don’t attempt to flee either, which is a wise choice. Once he stops in front of them, others have quickly moved and scattered, not wishing to get in the way of a Sith’s ire.  
“Show me your identification.”

The visitor holds their response for a few seconds.  
“I have permission to enter.”

Curiously, they do not speak with any imperial accents that Val recognizes and if she concentrates, she believes a Force presence originates from their location. She’s beginning to comprehend the concern.  
“On whose orders?”, he asks incredulously.

“I…Darth Imperius.”

Val blinks confusedly, but the man laughs mockingly.  
“Oh yeah? And I’m the Emperor’s maid. You know how many dregs utilize that sorry excuse? Identification cards now, lady, or you’ll be identifying the interior of a cell in a few minutes.”

The tension around their guest is nigh palpable and the energy from the aura they exude is starting to escalate, becoming less obscured. Are they going to attempt to fight their way out?  
Luckily, Lana interferes.  
“Leave her alone.”

The man halts and spins around to face the other human, eyeing her skeptically.  
“And who the bloody hell are you?”

“Someone who will deal with this matter.”

“Are you assigned to the regulation of new arrivals?”

“No, but-“

“Then don’t get in my way and _fuck off_.”

Lana’s brow furrows and the yellow color of her eyes intensifies.  
“Speak to me like that again and I shall ensure you don’t have a mouth to run.” Her voice is calm, but the tone is as sharp as the edge of a blade.

Sadly, he is not deterred by such demonstrations, perhaps due to being a lot larger than her. His interest in the guest is waning and he’s aiming his full focus on the other Sith, closing the distance between them.  
“Oh and now we turn to threats? I don’t think this is a fight you wish to instigate, mate.”

In the meantime, Lana attempts to control her temper.  
“I am Lana Beniko from Military Offense. This is my concern and I have the appropriate authority.”

“Hah, so that’s how it is now, huh? And under whose name do you operate?”

Despite a lingering hesitation and bemusement at this whole ordeal, Val knows she has to get embroiled. She’s not going to let Lana get into trouble for…whatever this is.  
“Mine.”

The Sith turns sharply, but all defiant gestures abruptly evaporate with his new discovery.  
“D-Darth Imperius? Uh…she’s with you?”

“Lana is, yes. I don’t know who this visitor is, but I will process them myself. Understood?”

He swallows and bows his head in respect.  
“O-of course. If you say so, my lord. We’ll give you some space.” He directs his attention to all the gawking onlookers.  
“Alright, clear the area! C’mon, get out of here, you loiterers! Get to consoles 4B to 11D. Go, dammit, go!”

Not only other visitors, but also all personnel disperse. No one wants to get in the way of a Dark Councilor.  
Lana faces and approaches the robed figure, trying to maintain her calm.  
“It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid. I know a place where we can speak privately.”

This unknown person is still skeptical, however.  
“I don’t recognize you”, they tell Lana.

That’s when Val joins them and addresses the same individual.  
“And I’m not familiar with you. Mind explaining to me why I just rescued you from being detained? You used my name, but I have not issued any exclusive entry files to anyone as of late.”

The person stares at Val from under their cowl to begin with, too stunned for words. The gesture makes Val uncomfortable and she’s starting to question what the hell this is about. And why is Lana so lax with it?  
Suddenly, they pull off the hood and reveals a woman underneath. The view sends Val into a startled state instead. The warm green skin, the black facial markings under the eyes and around the mouth, the short black hair and the curious lilac eyes.

“Wait, I…I’ve seen you before. Kaarema?”

The other mirialan is ambivalent at first, likely conflicted, though very little of this can be observed on her expression. She’s remarkably adept at controlling her motions.  
“You know me?”

“I have…a few pictures.”

“Hmm. And yet this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you.”

Yeah, there can be no mistaking it now. She has a Republic accent of some kind.  
“I see. But how did you get here?”

“With a ship. I was sent coordinates and a specific time for a meeting from an unknown source. Was that you?”

Val quickly shakes her head.  
“No…no, it certainly wasn’t.”

Suddenly, Lana gently inserts herself into the conversation.  
“That was me.”

Both of the other women are surprised by this revelation, though Val most of all.  
“What?”

Kaarema tilts her with interest.  
“Truly? You were the one I conversed with over the holocomm weeks ago?”

Lana dips her head in acknowledgement.  
“It was. I apologize for the subterfuge, master Jedi.”

“Interesting.”

“Now, hold on”, Val tells them, her voice growing adamant. “What the hell is this about? You haven’t said a word of this to me, Lana.”

The human is on the verge of responding, but then gives the surrounding area a quick sweep.  
“I can explain, but perhaps we should go for a change of scenery first? We’re gaining a bit of an audience.”

Val is swelling with agitation and bewilderment, but having an outburst of this caliber around the citizens is definitely something she’d like to avoid.  
“Fine, let’s relocate.”

As Kaarema has no objections, she allows herself to be guided away from here. Lana is the one to lead them and as she walks in front, Kaarema and Val are side by side. While the former keeps her eyes steered ahead, Val can’t help but stare at her. This is the first time in decades that she’s so physically close to any family member. She detects how her heart begins to beat faster and her emotions are roiling into a minor storm. This is…astounding, almost unreal.

Together, the trio enters a small meeting room with a long table and several chairs on each side. It’s presumably meant for staff gatherings and occasional visitor interviews. There are a lot of available seats, but no one sits down.  
Kaarema and Val gaze at one another once more, with most of the shock deriving from the latter. She doesn’t know what to say and, to be honest, neither does her guest.

“Is it true?”, Kaarema finally asks. “You are Darth Imperius?”

The moment of truth has arrived. Val won’t deny the fact that she’s been dreading this encounter, when she might have to explain herself to people she has been detached from for so many years. Lying at this stage is fairly futile, but will honesty hurt?  
“I am”, she concedes. “I’m a member of the Dark Council and one of the Empire’s most powerful Sith.”

Kaarema takes a few seconds to ponder and ingest this statement, nodding slowly.  
“I see.”

“Did you…genuinely not know this?”

The Jedi shakes her head.  
“I didn’t. Well, I knew the title Darth Imperius, of course, but nothing else than that you were supposed to be an alien Sith. No one told me you were mirialan, nor did they disclose your true identity.”

During this process, Lana stands a few meters away, giving them some space, but not enough as to be excluded from the conversation.  
“It’s curious that you wouldn’t have any details”, she points out. “Surely the Jedi Council are aware of this, right? If not on their own, then certainly through the SIS, who they work closely with.”

Kaarema is much more evenly spoken and filled with serenity, like many Jedi. This is in stark contrast with Val’s fluctuation state. There are some hints of tension in the Jedi, particularly when she scrutinizes the human with eyes more clearly affected by the dark side, but nothing more.  
“I’m not dismissing the possibility that other Jedi are better informed than me, but I’m not deceiving you while I say that this is news. I’m an archivist, working with Jedi records. I acquire, store and preserve items of historical and Force-related value. I am rarely privy to confidential information. If the SIS gathered intelligence on Valcera, it’s plausible that they hid it not just from me, but our entire family.”  
Kaarema turns to view Val once more.  
“Like most of our House, I believed you, Imaron and Silix died when your vessel was attacked by the Empire.”

It has been a long time since she heard anyone utter the names of her father and mother. When Val swallows, it’s difficult, like she has a knot in her throat. The sorrow that enters her chest is akin to someone grabbing and squeezing her heart with a fearsome grip.  
“Well, it’s…not entirely inaccurate. My mother did indeed fall in battle, to defend the ship. Father and I were captured, brought into slavery. I…never found him.”

In response, Kaarema unveils ephemeral aspects of sorrow and loss.  
“I’m sorry to hear that. You have all been mourned for decades already, but when the message arrived that you might be alive, I was hoping…”

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

The Jedi steels herself again, not wanting to be overwhelmed by sentiments. Best to focus on the present.  
She walks closer to Val, with the Councilor doing nothing to discourage this endeavor. Kaarema looks deeply into the shorter woman’s eyes, studying the face as well as the attire.  
“I hadn’t expected a member of our House to be a Sith. It breaks a lot of traditions.”

Val shrugs.  
“I figured as much.” She doesn’t mention her heritage just yet. Should save that for later, unless Kaarema decides to depart out of disgust. Val wouldn’t blame her for it.

Thankfully, the Jedi remains composed for now.  
“You and I are second cousins.”

“Mm, I know that too.” She gestures at the blonde. “Lana told me.”

Kaarema, being rather intrigued by how deeply Lana is involved, observes the human once more.  
“It appears we have you to thank for a lot.”

Lana dismisses it with a shake of her head.  
“I commissioned the work from my contacts, but I didn’t gather it myself. You should thank them. I suppose I am responsible for directly messaging you, though.”

“So you said. I am grateful that you reached out.”  
Shortly after, Kaarema resumes her examination of Val and while her eyes are trained on the face, she lifts a hand.  
“May I?”

Val is puzzled by the request at first, on the brink of asking what it’s about, but then she understands. After a brief pause, she nods.  
“Oh, sure. Go ahead.”

She allows Kaarema to gingerly brush her fingers over Val’s cheeks, chin and forehead, specifically around the markings. The Councilor inhales and feels how her body trembles, while the Jedi scours her meticulously. She’s not sure what to think. Did she do something wrong with them?  
“Your Tiv’ckha are…imaginative.”

“My wha-…oh, the tattoos?”

“Yes. It’s what they’re called in our dialect back home. It means ‘threads of life’.”

“Oh. Wow, I…I wasn’t…”  
She clears her throat, and despite trying to remain steady , she does sound rather nervous when she continues.  
“I uh, gathered what information I could over the HoloNet and other imperial records, which they acquired from the Republic. It was difficult to extract specifics directly from Mirial without the proper resources, at least back then.”

“I understand.” Kaarema caresses them some more and Val is exceedingly relieved that no distaste is detected. “They are certainly beautiful, though a few lines, locations and directions are somewhat inaccurate, based on our family’s system.”

It’s exceptionally rare to see Val becoming shy, but it’s exactly the expression she sports now, as she diverts her eyes downwards.  
“I know. I…apologize for that. I didn’t really have much point of reference, since I had to do it on my own. The Empire would never help an alien in this fashion.”

Kaarema shakes her head and she continues to stroke Val’s face, but this time to soothe and comfort.  
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Valcera. With your circumstances, it’s completely reasonable.”

Val smiles and meets her gaze again, being encouraged by her cousin’s support.  
“I did try to add a bit of a personal flair, as an imperial mirialan. Artistic license, right?”

She chuckles apprehensively. Fortunately, Kaarema smiles back at her.  
“They are gorgeous and very creative, Valcera.”

“T-thank you.”

In a hesitant fashion, Val tries to offer her cousin a hug and while she’s initially surprised, the Jedi does respond in kind, wrapping her arms around Val’s back.  
“I…sense we have a lot to talk about.”

“We do. Can you stay?”

“For a while, yes. I didn’t come here without making preparations for a lengthier visit, if the information was accurate.”

Val tilts her head back and joy spreads across her features.  
“I have a place of my own in the nearby city. You can come with me.”  
Immediately after saying this, she offers Lana a both suspicious and playful stare.  
“You and I are going to have a long discussion later.”

Lana attempts to smile innocently, but also seems thoroughly pleased that Val finally gets to spend time with one from her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I don't think I've named Valcera's parents before, but correct me if I'm wrong._


	50. Merged discord

The nature of the Vaiken Spacedock has been shifting almost in sync with the progress of the war. Fewer troops arrive, the number of ships decrease and much of the resources are slowly being transferred elsewhere, as the Empire begins to realize the lack of advantages the station produces in its current state. If it is to have any value at all to the effort of curbing the ever-advancing flood of their enemies, it needs to change.

That said, it does still play host to a number of pivotal individuals throughout the Empire’s hierarchy and today is no different. The foremost of its guests today is definitely Zal’riva, though she is also a recurring sight in these halls. The twi’lek has arrived to discuss the details of her latest excursion with her co-commander and prepare for takeoff. Zal’s crew has had to do away with the Tempest for the time being, for it seemed more prudent to fly in a shared and larger vessel, if they have to house entire squads of soldiers.

On this trip, she’s joined not just by Major Quinn and Lakorev, but also Kira and her togrutan padawan, Baeleki. The latter of these two stays close to Kira at almost all times, practically on the verge of leaning into the human. She seems to be quite shy around others, particularly imperials. In the meantime, Kira’s eyes are on a constant journey of their own, scouring the views of the station.  
“You know, I’ve never actually visited this place before. It’s kinda…spooky and weird to be walking through these hallways on a mission for the Empire. Not at all where I imagined my career would go.”

Baeleki nods slowly, one of her lekku instinctively wrapping itself around Kira’s arm.  
“Yeah. I’ve…had dreams involving this place in the past. Weird ones. Scary too.” She furrows her brow. “It’s very bizarre, like I’ve both visited and not.”

Kira watches her padawan with sympathetic eyes and strokes one of her arms over the shoulders, to hold Baeleki close for comfort.  
“I understand. Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.”

On the opposite side of the human, Zal observes their interaction with keen interest.  
“Baeleki is definitely an interesting choice as a padawan, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Heh, yeah. Not sure I can call it a ‘choice’, though, since I didn’t make it on my own. She kinda did it for us.”

The togruta rests her head on Kira’s shoulder.  
“I wanted to be close to you.”

Zal’s expression softens.  
“She certainly acts very differently from the stories of the Children of the Emperor. I was also led to believe that you were all human.”

Kira thinks to shrug at first, but the weight of her padawan’s head impedes her.  
“You and me both. Dunno why, but I guess that old nutjob decided to expand his experiments to others. Either way, I’m gonna make sure Baeleki maintains control of herself. No idea what our ‘father’ plans, but he’s not going to touch my padawan ever again, that’s for sure.”  
Their current location is fairly empty, which is why they feel safe enough to chat about this topic. Kira does glance towards Zal with somewhat ambivalent eyes, however.  
“Uh, hope you don’t think it’ll be a problem or anything.”

The Sith folds her arms.  
“Of course not. If you and Ktila trust Baeleki, then so do I. She has my full protection wherever she goes in the Empire.”

Soon after, another head pops out from a lower height, as Lakorev tries to look at Kira from Zal’s left side.  
“If you need anyone to spar with either of you later, I’m ready to volunteer”, he mentions. “Another partner or assistant can always be useful.”

Kira looks towards him and raises her brow amusedly. She has only briefly spoken with Zal’s new apprentice. He sounds decent enough, but obviously not as enjoyable as Jaesa.  
“Hmm, lemme think about it. Though, from what I’ve heard, you’re much further into your training than my padawan. Baeleki has just begun.”

Lakorev puts a hand to his chest and dips his head.  
“I promise to be a perfect gentleman and suppress my strength to more manageable levels, miss Carsen. I know what it’s like to be an acolyte. Or initiate, in her case.”

“Really? Huh. Not what most Sith are capable of.”

This comment makes Zal smirk and playfully poke Kira’s cheek.  
“Is that coming from you, miss ‘lightsaber-first-talk-later’ Carsen?”

Kira mirrors her expression, but swats the hand away.  
“…shut up, you!”

The gesture makes Lakorev smile as well, and he straightens his stance.  
“It’s a shame that Lord Scourge couldn’t join us. His company would’ve been invigorating.”

“Pff. More like a relief. He’s a real pain in the ass.  
Although…I’ve heard you managed to annoy him or something like that.”

Lakorev clears his throat and tries his very best to maintain his composure, to hide any smug notions.  
“I don’t know where that might stem from. I merely offered some…friendly suggestions.”

Kira grins.  
“I see why Vette likes you now.”

Once their conversation subsides, the last member of Zal’s retinue speaks up. Quinn has been tapping away at some form of datapad in his hands.  
“My lord, I’ve been performing a detailed scan of the information we were provided after the mission briefing and I just finished reading the latest reports from Darth Marr.”

Kira blinks confusedly.  
“…this is what you were doing this whole time? Talk about boring.”

He ignores her comment and faces his superior.  
“Can I assume you’ve done the same, my lord?”

Zal offers a polite smile in return.  
“I’ve skimmed them, yes.”

“Of course. My initial assessment of the situation in front of us is that there’s an abundance of work to be done. The personnel at your disposal is…questionable, at best.” His eyes divert to the screen once more. “A former apprentice of Darth Malgus, a coordination officer with no more than a few months covert operations experience, a renegade agent and her disorderly crew…”

He emits a heavy sigh. Zal smiles and reaches for him with a hand, to pat his shoulder.  
“No need to worry, Quinn. We’ll solve this mess soon enough, I’m sure. I trust that you and the rest will cooperate magnificently.”

“I will do whatever your orders entail, of course, my lord.”

And so, finally, they arrive at their destination. Outside the door, two soldiers are waiting, but not ordinary ones. They do wear black armor, but the imperial symbols on their chests are painted in violet and gold, not red, signifying their special affiliations. Regardless, they salute Zal upon her approach.  
“Lord Wrath”, one of them states evenly. “Your agents are waiting inside.”

“So we’re overdue”, Kira comments.

“Hmm. I prefer ‘fashionably late’, myself”, says Zal.

Lakorev looks rather entertained at the suggestion.  
“Did you borrow that one from Vowrawn, master?”

Upon entry, the group sees a whole range of people waiting inside. The room isn’t particularly sizable, but it does have three sofas with a table in the middle, lamps that hang down from the roof rather than being attached to it, a few computer terminals and a bottle of an unknown liquor, with only a few glasses.  
Cierah is most easily identifiable, as is Kaliyo and Raina, but there’s also a highly armed droid standing behind them and an avian creature sitting on the Cipher’s shoulder. On a smaller sofa on the shorter end, a fair-skinned blonde short-haired human and a pureblood with pale red skin and short black hair are seated.

“Cierah”, says Zal. “Long time no see.”

The human dips her head in respect, though she doesn’t bow.  
“Indeed. You’ve stayed busy since then, I hear.”

“You hear? Don’t be silly. I know you keep track of me.”

“I keep track of everyone.”

While her other three companions are blatantly curious, Quinn looks highly skeptical.  
“Well, this is certainly a…colorful assembly.”

“And interesting”, Lakorev adds, his red eyes drifting towards the pureblood.

“Major Malavai Quinn”, Cierah states in a firm tone. “I still find it fascinating that you have not just maintained your station at the side of Lord Wrath, but you’ve even been promoted. Proof of your capabilities, perhaps.”

Quinn scowls, easily being able to recognize the underlying insult beneath the veneer of praise.  
“And it’s stunning that you haven’t been hunted down by every Sith in the quadrant either, Cipher Nine.”

“They would never be able to catch me.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Next to Cierah, Kaliyo grins.  
“Always fun to watch imperials casually threaten each other. My kind of greeting, to be honest.”

“Concurrence: Indeed”, the droid agrees. “Though I am of course locked in a retaliation setting, should my master demand a more direct retort.”

Raina sighs and slowly shakes her head.  
“Sometimes, I also wonder how we’re still alive.”

Zal doesn’t have any qualms with the collision, it seems and casually strolls over to the sofa to have a seat. Her companions follow suit.  
“Who’s the droid?”, she asks. “I didn’t know you had more than one.”

Cierah lifts her hand to gesture at him.  
“HK-51, a relatively recent addition to my team, no more than a year ago. I admit that the circumstances surrounding his acquisition were somewhat unique, but he has been a most beneficial ally thus far, as one can expect from his model.”

“Meh. Despite the mayhem, he’s kinda annoying”, Kaliyo comments.

Raina offers her opinion as well, since the rattataki was so forthright.  
“He serves the Empire with as much fervor as the rest of us, my lord. Barring SCORPIO, perhaps. She is…unique too.”

Zal leans back in her seat and crosses her legs, putting her hands down in her lap.  
“You know, I rarely get to meet with your crew. Not sure I know their names either.”

Cierah glances between them and she accesses some of her internal memories.  
“Hmm, you might be correct. Then allow me to offer introductions.  
This is Kaliyo Djannis, the chaos of our family, and Raina Temple, my protégé.”

The human bows her head with reverence.  
“It’s an honor, my lord.”

Kaliyo merely grabs her glass and downs the contents, before she speaks.  
“Think we ran into each other briefly once. What’s with the ‘Wrath’ nonsense, though? Does that mean you’re pissed off all the time?”

Cierah rolls her eye.  
“Kaliyo…”

Thankfully, Zal does have a sense of humor and she begins to smirk once more.  
“Nonstop, yes. I just hide it very well.  
I see you’ve also obtained a…bird friend, Cipher.”

In reaction, Cierah raises her hand and gently caresses the feathers on the top of the bird’s head, who closes his eyes and tilts himself to allow her better access.  
“Indeed. He’s a Halcyon crown owl and another member. I call him ‘Cipher’s Menace’. He was…a gift from Kaliyo.”

When Zal observes him, the large eyes of Menace open and stare right into her. She receives some rather…peculiar vibes from him, enough to look away. Time to address the other duo instead.  
“…fascinating. Anyway, I see we have other personnel with us, ones who can’t be from your team.”

Both of them are turned towards Zal, but also act somewhat tense and quiet around her.  
“They’re not with me, but I’ve worked together with one of them”, Cierah explains. “I believe they can introduce themselves.”

The blonde almost instantly gets to her feet and bows.  
“I am Katha Niar, my lord. Previously a member of Logistics, but now involved with black ops coordination for the past few months.”

“No rank?”, Zal inquiries.

“Not as such. Due to my current station, I operate under the same network as Imperial Intelligence.”

“Ah, right. Makes sense. Must be a real strange change of pace, to go from simple administration to undercover military strategics.”

Katha inclines her head in recognition.  
“It’s a challenge, I’ll admit, but one I’m willing to undertake, due to our precarious situation. I am here to serve the Empire – and you, lord Wrath – in whatever way possible. Ask and I shall accommodate your needs.” She seems fairly pleased with her statement, but only for few seconds, until she realizes her negligence and swiftly veers towards Cierah.  
“Oh uh, and you too of course, commander.”

It’s the final choice of word that makes Zal arch her brow at the human across the table.  
“Commander?”

Cierah shrugs.  
“Like I said, this isn’t our first mission together. Despite miss Niar’s lack of experience in this field, she’s good at what she does.”

“That remains to be seen”, Quinn asserts. “Miss Niar, I propose the two of us discuss the details of your coordination efforts later. I have conducted much of the organizational tasks and planning for Lord Wrath in the past, and I wish to see what you have in mind.”

Katha hesitates, but doesn’t intend to oppose him.  
“If you think that’s wise, I am willing to collaborate, sir.”

Now that a gap opens up, the third and last Sith in the room rises as well, mimicking Katha’s gestures of deference for Zal.  
“Mighty Lord Wrath, I am Lord Cytharat from the Sphere of Military Offense and tactical advisor for the Makeb team.”

Zal tilts her head curiously.  
“I know your name, actually. Not just from the reports Marr sent us, but I’ve spoken to Va-…Imperius about you.”

Cytharat looks like a man who is exceedingly adept at containing and regulating his emotions with ease, and yet there are momentary signs of hesitation in response to this revelation.  
“I…I see. I hope her words were truthful.”

“I believe she was. You’re Malgus’ former apprentice, correct?”

“…I am, yes. Though I assure that this will not affect my judgment, nor my performance, my lord. I am fully committed to this mission and to the Empire. I would never do anything to jeo-

She stops him with a smile and a raise of her hand.  
“No need to fret, I wasn’t attempting to question your loyalty nor your credentials. I know you’re devoted to us and how far you’re ready to go. Imperius told me every detail.”

He virtually appears to expel his anxiety.  
“Ah. That’s…a relief, my lord.”

“Tell me, though, were you familiar with Chondrus Berani?”

“Chondrus? Naturally. We’ve interacted in the past, though we were never close. I remember him as one of Malgus’ apprentices and most faithful subordinates. Sadly, I hear he joined our former master in the New Empire.”

Zal provides a terse nod.  
“There’s more. He was assigned to lead Malgus’ personal New Imperial Guard.”

The pureblood’s gaze drifts away somewhat, traversing his memories and musings.  
“Hmm. Not astonishing at all. He has always been a talented man and Sith. It’s why his betrayal is a pity.”

Well, on that front, they certainly agree, but Zal’s expression grows even more solemn.  
“He’s dead.”

Cytharat ends his reminiscing and swiftly turn back to the twi’lek. He scans her appearance, but finds no insidious intentions.  
“Dead?”

“Yes. I slew him in combat. During the battle of Ziost, I infiltrated Malgus’ dreadnought and Chondrus was ordered to stop me from reaching him. Succeeded too, but I managed to make it out with assistance. The Commander himself asked that I finish him off. I granted his request.”

The previous serene and stoic expression that Cytharat maintained, practically evaporate completely and he grows distant, near melancholic. The idea of an old ally being dead apparently hit him harder than he could’ve anticipated. After giving it a few seconds, he makes a bid to regain these qualities.  
“Well, at least he died honorably. He would’ve been satisfied with that.”

After this announcement, Lakorev now takes interest as well, even if he redirects the angle.  
“If Malgus is gone, who do you serve now?”

This is a more palpable and manageable request, which Cytharat appears comfortable with.  
“For the time being, it’s Darth Arkous, where previously it was Darth Marr.”

“You work with a lot of impressively big names, then.”

“Quite so, but you do the same, no? You are Lakorev, Wrath’s apprentice, yes?”

Lakorev shifts into a politer smile.  
“True enough. Perhaps we could exchange stories and ideas later? I’m sure we have both much to learn.”

Cytharat nods.  
“I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“And you could teach me more about your…tactics.”

The tone is painfully familiar to Zal, who now rolls her eyes.  
“…really, apprentice? We _just_ met him.”

Lakorev does his utmost to quell his desire to smirk.  
“What? We’re simply having a nice chat, master, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh.”  
Cytharat glances between them with puzzled eyes, but neither of them relays what they’re insinuating. Zal faces Cierah instead.  
“So, is that the team, then?”

“Not everyone”, Cierah confesses. “SCORPIO, Doctor Lokin and Vector are already on the ship. You’ll meet them later.”

“They have also assigned an entire group of the most talented scientists, engineers and soldiers that the Empire can grant, under your command", Katha declares.  
"…yours and the commander’s, of course.”

Cierah exhales and lifts her hand to dismiss some aspect.  
“Enough of that. I admit this is a joint leadership, but I will acquiesce that most will probably be keener to follow your instructions, Wrath.”

This confession greatly amuses Zal and she folds her arms.  
“Honestly? And here I thought you’d adamantly fight any indications that this is my mission.”

Cierah snorts sharply in response.  
“Who said I agreed? I’m merely acknowledging your reputation, but I’m not surrendering my position.”

“You have one too.”

“Not like yours. But I hope you still concede that we’re partners here.”

“Without question, but I also offer you the same reminder. Don’t go off doing foolish things without me, Cipher.”

“Not to worry. If I somehow happen to accidentally conjure a foolish idea, in the depths of my intellect, I’ll take it to you immediately.”

Zal sighs and places a hand over her eyes to rub them. She can’t tell what’s the most annoying – the deliberate misconception or the smugness.  
“…you know that’s not what I meant.”

Next to her, Kira chuckles.  
“You know, she’s kinda funny. A lot more than when we first met.”

“Don’t encourage her, please.”

Cierah steers her organic eye towards both Kira and Baeleki.  
“So, you two must be the Jedi I read about in our files.”

“Yup”, Kira admits without hesitation. “Just following Ktila’s wishes, really. Besides, I like Zal.”

“Your friend is unknown to me, but I recognize you from our encounter on Hoth, years ago now.”

“Uh, sorry? ‘Encounter’? You mean the time I almost skewered ya.”

Cierah’s expression alters from interest to an unamused stare.  
“If that’s what you believe were about to occur, you’ve learned very little.”

Kaliyo, however, grins.  
“Hey, she sounds like a good kid to me.”

At least Cierah knows which people to keep an eye on and that they must remain separated.  
“At any rate, before we depart, there’s one more individual we must discuss. I saved her for last, just to make sure your mood was agreeable.”  
She puts a finger to her ear, initiating some sort of implant.  
“You can come in now.”

Everyone hears the sound of the door sliding open again and one final woman enters. As Zal’s crew glances over their shoulders, they spot a rather short figure equipped with a sturdy and yet fairly slim white and grey armor. The person it adorns has teal skin, red eyes and a bob cut hairstyle in black, which is greying somewhat. A chiss, no doubt, but not one they can identify. Lakorev studies her with interest, while Zal frowns incredulously.

“And what’s this all about?”, Zal asks sharply. “One of your allies?”

“In a way,“ Cierah admits. The chiss herself strolls to the short end of the table, stopping between Zal and Cytharat’s sofas. “Due to the Empire’s unstable situation, I decided to approach my contacts in the Chiss Ascendancy and requisition some aid to bolster our forces. They sent this woman to me.”

The chiss dips her head in minor show of respect.  
“Sabosen’evas’Cithar, core name Nevasc, my lord”, she says in a marginally foreign accent. “Cipher Nine and I have collaborated previously.”

Zal thoroughly scrutinizes the woman and it’s difficult for her to hide the growing doubt. She chooses to address Cierah instead.  
“Should we really bring an outsider?”

Cierah shrugs in an unperturbed fashion.  
“I don’t see the problem. The Ascendancy is the Empire’s ally and they have aided us before.”

“This is different”, Zal insists. “This may be one of the most critical missions that we’ve ever conducted. To involve a member of the Ascendancy here is…questionable.”

“How is it any more dubious than miss Carsen or her padawan joining us? You may argue she’s not with the Republic anymore, but she’s just as much of an outsider as Nevasc. And I can guarantee that my friend will be just as useful, if not more.”

Zal won’t lie. She had expected issues in this assignment, as that is an element one must prepare for when dealing with Cierah, but this conclusion was one she hadn’t foreseen.  
She glances at Lakorev to evaluate his emotions, but he reacts very sparsely.  
“Do you know her?”

He meets her gaze steadily.  
“We’ve never met.”

The twi’lek directs her attention to Nevasc.  
“Are you familiar with my apprentice?”

Nevasc stands with her arms behind her back and examines the younger chiss. It’s very possible that she’s twice his age.  
“I am aware of his existence, but he is of little consequence to the Ascendancy”, she states flatly.

“Right. Is this going to be an issue I have to be concerned about?”

“Certainly not, Lord Wrath. I assure you, I am merely present to honor our alliance. I am to help and guarantee that you are satisfied with my efforts.”

Nice promises, but they don’t fully convince Zal.  
“I remain skeptical, but if Cierah vouches for you, then that’s that. I suppose we should prepare for our departure. We have an Empire to preserve.”


	51. Ancient forlorn pact

With a sharp penetrative sound and an intense vibration which surges across the ship’s length only once, the Shielded Path exits hyperspace, very close to its destination. Its scanners activate and soon produce results which it calculates and displays on the various screens within the bridge. The main pilot today throws a cursory glance in that direction, but already knows what she requires about this location. She finds herself distracted by other elements, such as the low amount of people in her vessel. It feels a little lonely, even though she knows that will change shortly.

Unlike the Makeb team, who gets to utilize a more central and prominent space station for their gathering, Ktila had to be more covert with her ally. Only minutes after the Shielded Path comes in for a landing, she walks down the exit hatch, accompanied by T7 and Scourge, as they enter a fairly empty hangar. This entire scenario was arranged by Valcera and Cierah, of course, who wanted to ensure that as few minds as possible were made aware of the details, at least for now.

They’re in a very remote spacedock in the fringes of imperial space, nestled inside an asteroid field which is mostly accessed for its minerals. Hence why the majority of the presence within are mining vessels, equipment or personnel. Not exactly a vacation spot for anyone, which is quite convenient for this excursion.  
Once the former Jedi looks around the hangar, she almost instantly notices another smaller ship near her own, one of the few that are parked in this visitor’s area, where three figures are already waiting.

The sight summons a smile onto Ktila’s lips and she immediately increases her speed, discarding all notions of formality in this occasion. Who needs such concepts around friends anyway? The expression on the first woman she approaches mirrors this sensation and Jaesa eagerly accepts the hug she’s offered.  
“Master Ktila, it’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, missed you too. And hey, no need for the ‘master’ nonsense anymore. Haven’t had that rank in a while.”  
Following this gesture, she disentangles herself and faces a slightly shorter woman, who she doesn’t hesitate to allow the same type of embrace.  
“Glad you wanted to come, Vette.”

The twi’lek chuckles.  
“’course I did. If Jae goes somewhere, so do I. It was pretty cool that you wanted to have us around for this mission. Meetings with you happen too rarely, to be honest.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

Once they part, Vette slides her hands down to her own hips.  
“Maybe you can clarify something, though. Heard this rumor that you sent Kira away.” She quickly surveys the area. “And I can’t see her around here.”

“Oh. Yes, she’s with Zal and her team.”

“Dammit! And just when I was hoping we’d get to spend some time with her too.”

Ktila scratches the back of her neck.  
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I never intended for that to happen. I requested Jaesa’s presence on our team, due to the nature of our mission, but since I’d be taking one of Zal's allies, it only felt fair to lend Kira as compensation.”

It’s likely conjured without actual anger or malice, but Vette does pout a little.  
“Dunno about you, but I don’t usually like to look at my girlfriends as assets to be handed away.”

“Nor do I, but in this situation, I wanted to help reinforce my own girlfriend’s team. Besides, Kira will perform well at Zal’s side. I think that working together will make them grow and strengthen their bond; a facet I also hoped to channel with Jaesa.”

“It is an intriguing opportunity, I’ll admit”, the Sith agrees.

As the initial greetings are done with, Ktila’s red eyes drift to the side and the last member of the trio.  
“Ah, and you must be the apprentice Zal told me about. Ayzera, right?”

The miraluka, while present, doesn’t fully acknowledge her to begin with. Instead, she turns to face the tall man somewhat behind Ktila and soon bows deeply for him.  
“Lord Scourge. It is a singular honor to bask in your company.”

In return, the pureblood merely watches her with an unfazed expression and folds his arms. The rest of the team stares at him expectantly, but he has few revelations for them.  
“You know her?”, asks Ktila.

“I know her family, but it’s the first time I’ve encountered this whelp.”

His tone isn’t particularly friendly, though not directly hostile either. Ayzera straightens her stance and clears her throat.  
“I’m merely an apprentice so far. It’s not surprising that you would not be familiar with every member of our family. But I maintain the level of reverence, my lord.”

Ktila arches her brow, glancing between them somewhat skeptically. Her girlfriend had mentioned this young woman, which sounded interesting, but also a little puzzling. Scourge had provided no details regarding a Marr family.  
“You seem to be quite aware of his identity, miss Ayzera.”

“Yes. He carries a lot of respect among my family. He was a savior and a hero.”

Scourge snorts and shakes his head.  
“Useless drivel. I was only repaying an old debt.”

Ktila frowns at him. She might not know this woman, but Ayzera is Jaesa’s apprentice, a friend. She doesn’t like when others mistreat her allies.  
Before she can intervene, however, Ayzera offers a polite bow.  
“Ah, my apologies for the negligence. It is a pleasure to meet with you as well, master Ktila. Master Willsaam has provided me with many stories of your exploits.”

“Has she now? That’s interesting. Wish I knew more about you. I have heard of Marr, though, through Scourge and some old Jedi records that still exist. You used to have a pretty famous Grand Master long ago, right?”

“I’m unsure regarding her reputation, but Visas Marr was indeed Grand Master of the Jedi Order, some 300 years ago. Luckily, my own branch of our family has preserved much of our old history that the Jedi tried to purge. If you wish, I would be glad to convey what I know during our journey together.”

While they discuss this topic, Vette is more interested in the pureblood. In a small break, she takes the chance to speak up.  
“So, Scourge. Don’t get to see your face very often. You’re Zal’s predecessor, right?”

Scourge furrows his brow and stares at her disapprovingly.  
“I am, but I prefer not to be viewed in this fashion. She and I are not the same.”

This comment makes her smirk.  
“True, ‘cause you’ll never be as awesome as her. You’re more like an outdated model of Zal.” His hands clench somewhat, but he doesn’t retaliate.  
“How does it feel to be back working for the Empire again, huh?”

“I am not working for the Empire. I am Ktila’s associate and ally, nothing more.”

“But Ktila is working with the Empire right now.”

“Incorrect. She is aiding _one_ Dark Councilor, not the Empire as a whole.”

Her smug exterior lingers and grows, while she tilts her head and raises her brow.  
“Oh, so we’re bringing technicalities into this now, are we?”

“You made a faulty statement. It is prudent to correct mistakes when they exhibit the wrong implications.  
Besides, I would think one of your…disposition would be less inclined to enjoy toiling for a nation that does not care for you.”

“Never said I did. But how could I ever decline an offer to shoot a Sith in his ugly and vile mug?”

“Alright, that’s enough”, Ktila states calmly, but firmly. “It’s silly and pointless to bicker like this. We are all here to defeat an individual which each of us deems to be an enemy. That’s the vital aspect which we should all focus on in this endeavor.”

“I agree with Ktila”, says Jaesa. “Let’s postpone any arguments for now.”

Thankfully, another distraction soon presents itself for them. The blast door to the main exit of this hangar opens up. The group is able to guess what this signifies, but the sight causes some slight confusion.  
It’s three humans, a devaronian and a jawa that stroll inside, which is not especially peculiar on its own, but the two women in the group appear to be arguing. Or…playing? It’s unclear at first.

The taller and darker skinned of the two has a datapad in her hand, which she isn’t using, but holds up in the air. The shorter scowls, while her gaze travels between the device and the other woman’s curiously yellow eyes.  
“Give it back, Jov.”

Jovana merely smirks and continues to keep it elevated above her.  
“Nah. Don’t feel like it.”

The younger woman bristles and attempts to jump up. She’s too short.  
“Stop it! Jov, just…give it to me.”

“Gotta say it first, Mako.”

“Say what?!”

“Apologize.”

“I didn’t even do anything bad, you dolt!”

Jov puts a hand to her own chest, continuously keeping the pad just barely out of reach. She occasionally lets it drift a little closer, but then teasingly pulls it away.  
“You hurt my feelings.”

“How?! How does it hurt you in any way that I trash talked a gang that you’re in no way affiliated with?!”

“We were rivals back on Nar Shaddaa.”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s not fair! We talk shit about the hutts all the time!”

Jov shrugs in a somewhat unperturbed fashion.  
“Not the same thing. Dragging the taskmasters is mandatory, but you gotta show respect for the competition.”

Mako makes another bid to tear Jov’s arm down with force, but it just isn’t feasible. The mando is way stronger than she is. Mako can only groan and huff.  
“I _will_ climb you, Vlasic, I swear.”

Jov grins at the suggestion.  
“Oh yeah? Prove it. Not gonna stop ya, shorty.”

“We have an important meeting, you ass!”

“Better hurry up, then.”

Eventually, against her better judgement, Mako throws caution and care to the wind. She leaps up, clutches onto Jov and utilizing whatever wires, ledges and pipes that protrude from the armor, she scales her friend and basically heaves herself to the top.  
Jov doesn’t do anything to dissuade this action, but as soon as Mako finally snatches her prize, Jov switches angle. She grabs her friend by seizing the waist, tosses the younger human over her shoulder and continues by carrying her.

“…no! Jov, lemme go! Drop me to the floor, you big oaf!”

The bounty hunter tilts her head back and laughs.  
“That was clumsy, Mako. Fell right into my trap.”

“This is undignified!”

“You can still say sorry.”

By now, the group is getting exceedingly close to their goal, which inspires the devaronian to clear his throat.  
“While it’s always fun to see you do…whatever this is, might I suggest we focus on a stronger business demeanor? That Dark Councilor did hire us and promised to pay for a professional performance.”

Jov waves her hand to reject the thought.  
“Relax, Gault. Imperius knew who she hired. But…guess you might have a point.”  
She gently puts Mako down on the floor, who dusts off her clothes and then throws only a small kick at Jov’s side, an impact that hardly budges the mandalorian. In the meantime, Jov views the other team, which seems justifiably confused with this entire display.  
The smirk soon rematerializes, and she folds her arms.  
“So, you came after all, huh? Wasn’t sure you would.”

Ktila looks back at her with mild bemusement.  
“Why not?”

“Oh, ya know…Jedi. All that moral garbage tends to scare most of ‘em from cooperating with my group of misfits.”

Mako pouts at her.  
“You’re a misfit. And an asshole!”

This is a most intriguing factor for Ktila to observe, as Jov evidently doesn’t demand deference from her team, seeing as how she laughs the insult off. Once she reaches the chiss, she also offers a hand.  
“Jovana Vlasic.”

The former Jedi accepts the proposal and feels that Jov’s grip is marginally firmer than hers. The human is also taller, but only moderately.  
“Ktila. Do you wish to be addressed as ‘champion’?”

“What? Nah, that’s just stupid. Had enough of that farce for a lifetime. My name is fine.”

“Then you can use mine too.”

Jov plants hands at her hips and snorts briefly.  
“Good. Wasn’t planning to call you ‘master’ anyway.”

“Too good for it, hmm?”

“Well, I’ve never given any other Jedi this privilege and the fact that you’re kinda hot won’t change my decision.”

Such a blunt and bold statement surprises Ktila at first, but is soon transformed into soft laughter.  
“Seems like all of Zal’s friends are big flirts.”

Jov sports a friendlier smile and a casual shrug.  
“Guess we all like to have fun. Gotta say, though, I didn’t initially believe her when she said you two were together. Always knew she was different for a Sith, but not such a big softy that she sleeps with Jedi.”

“It’s not quite that simple. Both of us do share ideals and perspectives on the Force, things that have been a fact for years now. After collaborating and corresponding for an extended time, we couldn’t ignore how our feelings had been…cultivated. Neither of us wanted to ignore it.”

“Hey, don’t blame ya. She’s a fine woman and I hear you are too. Looking forward to seeing what we can do together.”

“As am I. Perhaps we can begin with some further introductions?”

“Oh, sure.” She uses her thumb to indicate the people behind her. “This is my crew – Gault, Torian, Blizz”, she rotates the hand to a location on her side, “and this lil’ grumpy face is Mako.”

“Fuck you”, she shoots back caustically.

“Case in point.”

Ktila nods slowly as her eyes sweep across their appearances.  
“You all seem like a very…dynamic group. I look forward to acquainting myself with everyone.” She gestures at her company too. “This is Scourge and T7-O1”, she says, while the droid beeps joyfully.  
“The others here are-“

“Jaesa and Vette”, Jov interrupts. “Yeah, I know. We’ve been on a few rides together before. It’s definitely been a while since our last gettogether, though. Was a pretty tough mission back on Zodric, if I recall correctly.”

Jaesa appears as amiable as ever when she views the mandalorian.  
“It’s a pleasure to work with you again, miss Vlasic. It was a rather fascinating and…eventful experience last time.”

Mako, on the other hand, is far more direct in this occasion. She immediately hurries up to the twi’lek and embraces her. Vette returns the gesture without pause. Ktila hadn’t quite anticipated how familiar they’d be with one another.  
“Glad you’re here to stir up some shit again, Vette.”

The twi’lek grins in return.  
“Of course you are. This team needs the brightest and fiercest, after all – that’s me. I assume you’ll be handling the slicing for us?”

“You know it. Imperius apparently required the best and she knew who to call.”

“Both of us still working on that humility, huh?”

“Who needs humility when you’ve got skills?”

Meanwhile, the oldest mandalorian is currently eyeing the only pureblood in the group.  
“Did Ktila call you Scourge?”

The tall Sith stares back at her with adamant eyes.  
“She did.”

“Hmm. I know your uh…old rank or whatever you wanna call it, but I don’t know much about you. Think a couple of Sith has mentioned your name once or twice. Tormen did. You know, before I killed the fucker.”

It isn’t meant to be an insult, not intentionally, though it could certainly be interpreted as such. Either way, Scourge only scoffs, not overwhelmingly impressed.  
“Tormen was a pitiful, rash, shortsighted and overextending imbecile. Like many Sith, he valued personal power above the needs of the Empire. His death was always inevitable.”

They’re off to a good start, at least, as Jov nods in appreciation of his hurled scorn.  
“If that’s what you think, you’re already miles ahead of-“

It appears Scourge isn’t done, however.  
“And the fact that a simple mercenary killed him is even more laughable. He deserved nothing better or less disgraceful.”

Any pleasant or respectful notions promptly evaporate from Jov’s expression and she summons a frown instead. She spreads her arms in an overt gesture.  
“…you wanna go, big guy?”

“I wouldn’t advise it. You are outmatched, mandalorian.”

“You don’t know how many dickheads have said that, before I filled their ugly faces with bolts.”

Regardless of previous squabbling, Mako is quick to join Jov’s side for support.  
“Don’t get too confident, Sith. Jovana takes challenges _very_ seriously.”

“It’s a worthy duel, if nothing else”, is Torian’s input. “I say you take it, ner vod.”

The only one who seems both discouraged, and perhaps even tired, is Gault.  
“Oh, please, not again…  
Do we really have to get into fights wherever we go? This isn’t just stupid, but redundant. We’re here for a lucra-…I mean, joint mission, yes?”

The tension isn’t near any levels of being palpable or particularly heavy, though it still lingers. Thankfully, it is rapidly alleviated by the sound of T7 and Blizz interacting.  
“Ooh, interesting droid!”, the jawa exclaims. “Look at parts, so shiny and advanced! Blizz can have a peek, yes? Could give credits for salvage!”

He spins around the little astromech, wanting to inspect everything, but T7 does not seem very appreciative of this attention. He beeps to begin with, to express his distress. When that isn’t enough, he extends one of his internal robotic arms and sends out minor electric jolts, which makes the jawa yelp and quickly escape to hide behind Jovana’s much longer legs. The scene makes Jaesa, Mako and Vette giggle.

Seeing no use in creating a feud, Jov ditches such ideas and instead looks at the final person in the group, one she hadn’t noticed previously.  
“Wait, who’re you? Don’t recognize ya.”

The miraluka bows her head in greeting.  
“Ayzera Marr, apprentice to Lord Willsaam.”

Jov blinks perplexedly.  
“Hold on. Marr? Like…Darth Marr?”

“Yes. We’re associated, but not related.”

“Huh. Okay.  
Actually”, she veers her head towards Mako, “didn’t we fight a Jedi called Marr once?”

Mako inclines her head.  
“Yup, one of Jun’s associates. Adeline, I think?”

“I am unfamiliar with such a name”, Ayzera confesses, “but if it was a Jedi, I believe she may be from a completely separate branch of the Marr family. We would be distantly related at best, detached by several generations.”

“Oh, alright”, says Jov. “Well, as long as you don’t aim to repeat her mistake, we won’t have any issues.”

“I assure you, miss Vlasic, that I am only here to assist my master.”

To further enhance this element, Jaesa smiles and puts a hand on Ayzera’s shoulder.  
“My apprentice is a good person and one you can rely on, miss Vlasic, just like I do.”

Jov raises her arms in the air, disclosing her surrender of any misgivings.  
“Guess that’s it, then. You trust her, I trust her.  
Suppose we should board your ship and get moving? We came in a borrowed craft anyway, so we don’t mind using yours, if you’ve got the space.”

Ktila dips her head in recognition.  
“Works for us. My crew has been very small as of late, so there are more than enough rooms for all of you.”  
As they turn and approach the Shielded Path’s entrance, Ktila walks side by side with Jov.  
“You know, this might be the first time in centuries that a mandalorian and Jedi work together.”

Jov briefly ponders this concept and realizes that there’s probably some truth to it.  
“Could be, yeah.” She flashes a small grin and playfully nudges her shoulder into Ktila’s. “Promise I won’t show you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I think I'm incapable of writing a chapter between my class characters without at least a little flirting. It's just funny, since they never meet in game_


	52. Lapsed crystals

Valcera was stumped. She has invited guests into her home before, on several occasions by now, even if most of them tend to be friends or people that she acknowledges as an approximate family. She’s also very accustomed to the cordial, hostile, devious and ambiguous negotiations that can occur within the many fluctuating levels of the Empire and she has conducted many such meetings at this stage. But interacting with actual family, people connected to her by blood, inside her innermost sanctum? It was an absolutely foreign concept, one that had her almost completely confounded beyond words.

Despite the elation of the event, she didn’t actually know what to do or what type of hospitality was suitable to offer. Should she provide tea for her guest? Would Kaarema even drink the imperial varieties? Or would such an act be extremely inappropriate to a Jedi?  
While such concerns initially panicked the good Councilor, it was, thankfully, entirely superfluous. Kaarema was mostly fascinated by the very thought of talking with her second cousin and hear as much about Val’s life as she was willing to divulge. The Sith even had to call her assistant and temporarily postpone all the meetings for the day. Francine was immediately alarmed by such drastic measures, but Val insisted that it was an emergency. Embellishment, for this very special occasion.

The mirialan duo is not alone, as Lana is with them as well. Once she reenters the living room, she notes that Kaarema and Val are seated on the sofa together, as Val regales her cousin about the details of her background. The human observes the contrast between them – Kaarema sits in a nigh formal position, her legs correctly extended to the floor, her back quite straight and her hands in her lap; Val is much more casual, resting her side against the back of the sofa, legs folded under her and a hand on top of the pillow. Kaarema doesn’t move much at all, barring the occasional raising of her cup, while Val amplifies her articulation through body language and sometimes nervously corrects her hair. Lana finds her girlfriend’s behavior very sweet, a side she hadn’t anticipated.

“Yes, House Nih’etat always had a connection to the Empire, even if a remote and delicate one”, Val explains. “It’s old, though, arising from Kallig during the era of Tulak Hord.”

In Kaarema’s hands lies an item, a small badge depicting a set of triple spires with blazing eyes above – the symbol of House Kallig.  
“Hmm, that is most peculiar and exceedingly intriguing. I admit that I’m not particularly well-versed in the minutia from so many generations ago, but I do know that outsiders have married into our family before. This is an astonishing revelation”, she says, although her voice is amusingly even and almost flat at all times. Proof of an adherence to the Jedi’s serenity, most likely.  
“I wonder if it’s truly a coincidence that you came to the Empire then or if it was the will of the Force. Maybe it always meant for you to transform this nation from within, to succeed where the Republic’s martial prowess failed.”

Val sports a small smile, but there’s overt skepticism roaming across her expression.  
“Well…I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the Force having wishes of its own, but if it did plan to have me enslaved this whole time, I really would’ve appreciated if it had chosen another girl.”

The duo is soon distracted by the sight of Lana approaching with another steaming kettle of hot water, which she puts down.  
“Prepared another batch, if you want more tea”, she reveals.

Lana had originally planned to return to work after she introduced them to each other, but Val practically demanded that she stayed. It was impossible to decline, as Lana did feel a modicum of guilt for having set this scenario in motion to begin with.  
As the conversation temporarily subsides, Kaarema glances between the human and her cousin, noticing not just the emotions that extend from either side, but a very specific twinkle in their eyes.

“Since the two of you live together, can I safely assume that you are romantically involved?”

Val awkwardly clears her throat and lowers her gaze, while Lana adopts a pleasant smile and gets seated in an armchair.  
“That’s the case, yes”, she admits. “We’ve been together now for…a little over a year, I believe?”, she remarks, though looks to her girlfriend for answers.

The Councilor nods briefly.  
“And there will likely be more. I’ve never met anyone that makes me feel like Lana does. I’m bonded with her, in more ways than one.”

If Kaarema disapproves of this, she doesn’t disclose anything of that inclination in neither her expressions nor her internal surface thoughts.  
“It would appear you mean a lot to each other, so that’s probably a reasonable decision. Strong mental and emotional links are wise to embrace.”

Lana arches her brow amusedly.  
“Oh? You must be the first Jedi I’ve ever heard espousing such an opinion.”

“Then you have an incorrect account. It’s true that the Jedi Code and the majority of our organization frown upon such behavior, but some – like House Nih’etat – view relationships in a different light. Since the Order wants our cooperation, it doesn’t attempt to dispute the actions of what our House adheres to, nor other factions of a similar nature, as long as we do not break too many conventions.”

Lana runs a hand over her cheeks in thought.  
“Hmm, that’s very interesting. I hadn’t considered this before, but I do know that they laud bloodlines with strong Force sensitivity.”

Meanwhile, another angle pops into Val’s mind.  
“Actually, on the subject of curios aspects – how exactly did Lana manage to convince you to come all the way to Dromund Kaas in the first place, Kaarema? Not that I object, but it seems very risky, on the verge of being reckless.”

The Jedi Master contemplates her response before phrasing it, not wanting to appear all too foolish.  
“I won’t argue with this verdict. It was a dangerous journey and for most of it, I was stuck in a spiral of doubt, wondering whether it was all just a trick to lure me into captivity. In fact, most Jedi would’ve presumed as much and therefore cancel the trip. But I persevered.”

“Why? You thought it was worth it?”

Kaarema turns to gaze directly into Val’s eyes, gaining a piercing quality.  
“Yes. I somehow sensed the honesty in miss Beniko’s words, as she relayed information regarding the possibility that you were Darth Imperius. That my second cousin, who was supposed to have died decades ago, had risen as a Sith Lord.”

Lana’s curled lips gain a slightly mischievous quality.  
“I told her that the Jedi Council knew of your identity already.”

“Indeed, which was definitely an element that was both alarming and unnerving. It was hard to believe that our leaders would hide a fact that severe from me.  
Naturally, I didn’t know if I could trust anything from the mouth of a complete stranger, who also hid her face, but the only avenue to explore this matter for me, was to gamble and confront the potential perils. Because I recognized just how hazardous this might get, I decided to come alone, as to not jeopardize another person’s safety.  
Besides, I’m merely an archivist without any substantial knowledge, so if I were to be interrogated, at least there was very little of importance I could reveal regarding battleplans and Jedi secrets.”

Neither of the other women chooses to challenge this recourse.  
“Fair enough”, says Val. “But you were probably very fortunate that we were the ones who greeted you.”

“Quite so. I must also confess that I’m…hesitant of what will happen when our family discovers my decision. It’s plausible that they’ll chastise me for being foolhardy. Not that I’ll regret it – I found you, which makes all the troubles worth it.”

Val smiles pensively, eyes drifting towards her girlfriend.  
“Well, it is a…familiar reaction.”

In return, Lana snorts softly and crosses her arms.  
“Ridiculously so. It seems plunging into needless danger is a Nih’etat trait.”

Val can’t help but giggle slightly.  
“That’s not completely fair, is it? You invited her, darling.”

“And she accepted. My point stands.”

Seeing no purpose to continue until it transforms into bickering, Val shrugs and redirects her gaze to Kaarema.  
“You know, it’s a remarkable coincidence that you deal with historical artifacts and texts, for this is exactly what my job is all about.”

“So I’ve heard”, her cousin admits. “I studied some of the information that your girlfriend sent to me. Tell me, which topic or historical era has been your primary focus?”

Val gradually breathes in and places a hand around her legs, to pull them in further towards her body.  
“Well, as the Dark Councilor who represents Ancient Knowledge, I’m required to involve myself with every category, to a small extent. However, my keenest interest is steered towards Sith remnants or relics from the last few centuries of the old Sith Empire, much of which we’ve had to unearth. Since it was shattered by the Republic and the Jedi, and we’ve only managed to conduct digs in the last few decades after the Empire’s public reconstitution, with very limited resources due to the military’s endless demands, there is much left to do.  
I’m still working on an extended thesis that non-humans/purebloods were more common as Sith than what is officially claimed, something that Kallig’s presence makes evident.”

Kaarema listens to her with avid interest, followed by the infrequent nod.  
“Our Order is currently facing similar challenges, due to the destruction of the Temple at Coruscant and a few other enclaves. We have only a miniscule number of Sith artifacts preserved in our secured vaults in Tython, antiques that could be saved and transferred.”

“Ooh, really? Well, I’d love the opportunity to browse and identify them, maybe compare notes.”

“That might be a complicated request, but I shall what we can arrange.”  
For a couple of seconds, Kaarema goes silent as she slowly searches Val’s face, but her eyes look absent, inaccessible. Eventually, she returns with a slight shake of her head.  
“I have noted that, while your emotions are unquestionably disquiet at this time, I can sense no great amount of malice or presence of the dark side in you.”

Val wavers, not having expected another dig into her mind, and one so accurate too. Thankfully, they’re at home, around people she trusts. However, how far did Kaarema actually drill? Could she detect truths that are not meant for the light of day?  
“No, I don’t imagine you would. Compared to Jedi, I have accepted my emotions and passions, but this also includes kindness, compassion and love. I believe in a new path for the Sith, a healthier direction. We do not have to embrace cruelty to still exist as an Order or to be dissimilar from the Jedi; we do not have to be an antithesis. We should simply follow a route that leads to passion, desire, fervor laced with benevolence and generosity. This is who I am, what makes me Sith.”

“Hmm, a most captivating ideal. If this is true, how do you handle Sith holocrons? I’ve explored some and they’re…intense, corruptive. It’s grueling for a Jedi’s mind to process in any lengthy session.”

“Oh, no doubt, but I find them no less onerous than other artifacts. It takes the same kind of concentration and strength of will. For the Sith variety, you must be in full control of your emotions. I could teach you sometime, if you’d like.”

She hasn’t smiled much until this moment, but Kaarema’s lips do curl somewhat now.  
“I would. Councilor Iron’zeranz once told me that a Jedi’s learning period never ends, not even as a master. Perhaps she was correct.  
History is not just a prominent concern for me, but our family as a whole. This is certainly perceivable on Mirial.”

Ardent enthusiasm glimmers through Val’s eyes again.  
“Is it? I’ve…never seen our home. Well, not since I was a girl and I can’t even remember those days.”

“I have not visited in a while, due to being part of the Jedi Order, but I make exceptions from time to time.”

“I see. Do you and I…come from the same city?”

Kaarema inclines her head.  
“Yes – Alhashina Vedje, where your father was also born, in the southwestern continent. It’s a city built into the side of a mountain, with large and compact forests, beautiful valleys and deep underground passages in its periphery. It’s best known for four specific traits – a famous Nih’etat university that was founded long ago, the mining operations, big artistic endeavors and the research stations that conduct experiments on the flora both in the valleys and in subterranean levels.  
After the Jedi Order recruited me, I’ve visited on a few occasions and during my term as a padawan, my master conceded to travel with me in order to climb the tallest peaks and view the area from above.” A wistful wave washes over her. “To feel the breeze on your skin, to watch the slopes of the valleys, to observe how the wind brushes over the tips of the trees and the sun glistens in the city’s many resplendent structures from that height - there are few more exhilarating and liberating sensations in the galaxy.”

Val smiles, both gladly and longingly, trying to imagine what such an experience would entail.  
“That sounds…extraordinary. I wish I could see it.”

It’s hard to determine the exact quality, but Kaarema does appear moderately guilty for a moment.  
“I apologize for not bringing any pictures. Didn’t realize I might need them.  
However, I could attempt to give you a glimpse.”

Val’s eyes widen with a sliver of hope.  
“Really?”

“Possibly. It won’t be advanced, nor will it match reality, but it could help you to gain an understanding. It requires aptitude with the Force.” She offers her hand and with only a small delay, Val takes it.  
“Close your eyes, steady your breathing and unlock your mind. Let the Force replace your burdens and unease, and don’t fight its intrusion. I will transmit to you what I can.”

The Councilor is obviously incredulous at first. One with an even more potent distrust is Lana.  
“…is this a Jedi mind trick of some kind?”, the human inquiries. “Better not be.”

“If it were, I doubt I would be skilled enough to control your beloved, especially while we’re on Dromund Kaas. I swear, this is no deception.”

Val takes a deep breath and then follows Kaarema’s instructions, despite a lingering wariness.  
It isn’t much, nor detailed, just like she described, but Kaarema does manage to summon a mental image of their home city from the mountaintop view, within the depths of her swirling memories. Val gets to behold tall and partially snowy peaks; vast, dark and mysterious forests which gleam in green, black, brown and blue; expansive valleys and coiling mountain passages; and most of all, the city of sturdy metal, with sharp towers, rows upon rows of regimented living quarters and several crystalline constructions that are either buildings or magnificent sculptures in the size of houses. A city that wears art on its sleeve.

It is fleeting, however, and Kaarema cannot maintain it for long. Soon, they’re back in Kaas City, in the apartment. Val is disappointed, but it’s an ephemeral reaction which fades. She does feel an intense desire to observe it in person someday.  
For now, she caresses her cousin’s arm.  
“Thank you, Kaarema. This was more than I could’ve hoped for.”

Kaarema dips her head to begin with, but then refocuses on Val.  
“You should come home with me. I can escort you into the city, to where our family lives. They would welcome you with open arms.”

Sadly, Val’s answer is not as adamant.  
“I appreciate the gesture, but I can’t right now. Maybe never.  
While I don’t doubt either you or your-… _our_ family, the Republic is unlikely to simply let a Dark Councilor waltz inside their territory uncontested.”

Kaarema marginally reins in her eagerness, but doesn’t let it disperse.  
“Perhaps, but I’m not necessarily suggesting you leave the Empire. A modest visit would suffice. We could even make it an official one.”

“Hmm. That is something I could accommodate, but not while we’re at war.”  
She opens her mouth, but hinders her progress. Should she really unveil factors that are not yet public, that could be dangerous to disclose?  
“As you are my cousin, you deserve to know that I have been trying to end this conflict and I am still struggling to achieve this conclusion, or at least search for avenues to peace.”

Kaarema’s curiosity grows and she raises a keen brow.  
“Have you? For what purpose?”

“Because the war is pointless. It was instigated by power hungry and blind imbeciles who still covet conquest above all else. Most of them have lost their ranks or died, and yet the fighting proceeds. It must end, so we can all have a chance to recover.”

“Hmm. If this is true, then I want to help, in whatever way possible. Should you require an ally in the Jedi or the Republic for this endeavor, you shall have me. I won’t betray my Order’s ideals, but I will strive to achieve peace; especially if it permits me to reunite with family.”  
This is not just spoken, but emanated via the aura that surrounds her. Val is so overwhelmed by the heartfelt sincerity that she can’t express herself with words. Instead, she envelops her cousin in another loving hug. The Jedi returns the gesture, but this time with more gusto.  
“We never meant to abandon you, Valcera”, she utters softly. “Now that we know you’re alive, we won’t.”

Val smiles, shuts her eyes and leans her forehead against Kaarema’s.  
“I promise that I shall do my best to maintain contact. We will speak again.”

“And I vow to do everything to assist you”, states Lana. “I’m not powerful, but anything I can offer is yours. We are family now.”


	53. Realm of stilted soil

The hyperspace journey has come to an abrupt end, like most such treks do, letting the vessel soaring through the fluctuating tunnel exit and slide back into reality.  
After Zal’riva and Cierah’s team had converged on Vaiken Spacedock and sized each other up, they headed in a joint fashion to a hangar that Katha Niar had indicated, where they boarded the ship that would take them to their destination – the Esoteric Vision. It’s a medium-sized cruiser, bigger than the Tempest and the Rogue Warden, large enough to hold a decent crew, a substantial cargo bay, numerous quarters and a hefty arsenal.

The trip thus far hasn’t been very lengthy, but during the span, Zal has mostly kept to herself and her friends. She needed to be rested and prepare accordingly, elements that can only be achieved if she doesn’t have to deal with too many outside entities. Maintaining the near façade of the Emperor’s Wrath is taxing and she sometimes just has to recharge the mental batteries, either by clinging to solitude or relaxing with people she likes. This process could’ve been sped up with Ktila around, but she’s obviously inaccessible.

Once they slip out of hyperspace, a message is dispatched over the intercom, asking the crew to rendezvous in one of the central chambers and Zal intends to heed that call. She equips her regalia, the gear people are used to seeing her in, including the armor, her lightsaber and the grey coat. She sent the latter to a tailor recently, to mend a few holes it had sustained. Hopefully, she won’t wear it out too much on this assignment.

Along the path through the ship’s grey and somber halls, she inadvertently stumbles into her co-commander, Cierah. She spots the human standing alone in a cabin with an open door, though it’s difficult to discern what Cierah is doing here, as she has her back turned. As the agent has not yet acknowledged her presence, Zal tilts her head to get a better view without eschewing the need for personal space. That’s when she sees a syringe of some kind in Cierah’s hand, with a pale blue liquid inside the cylinder. A stim, perhaps? The needle is injected into her wrist and she let the liquid unhurriedly pour into her, clenching her hand as she does. She makes no noise, other than a mildly quivering breath from her nose.

The twi’lek soon starts to feel awkward. She can’t just stand here and stare like this for too long. She has to say something. She slides both arms behind her and clears her throat.  
“Cierah? Are you alright?”

The Cipher flinches marginally and glances over her shoulder with overt surprise entering her eye.  
“Wrath? I thought everyone was at the meeting already.”

“Ahem, well…I was going, but…” One of her lekku curls with unease. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Cierah stares at her with the organic eye, divulging no other emotions. A titanium wall, as usual. If there’s one thing she does possess, it’s a face made for pazaak.  
“It’s fine”, she eventually states and continues with her current activity. “It is not a secret.”

“So…should I be worried?”

“If you are, then let me verify my functional status. Doctor Lokin has reported that I am fully operational. There are just the occasional…minor complications.”

Zal arches her brow, unsure what that implies. She observes how Cierah is already disposing of any evidence that she was utilizing an object of this nature and finds a garbage chute to toss the remains into.  
“With your implants?”

“…yes.”

“I see. Is this something we should be concerned about?”

Cierah has chosen to keep her face turned away.  
“If it was, I would’ve informed you. This is a personal matter, and if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Zal nods slowly, not knowing Cierah well enough to discern whether or not interfering is suitable in this occasion. With Valcera, she might’ve considered the prospect, but the agent is elusive. That she slipped up at all means this was dire or a distraction. Or was it on purpose, a farce? It’s hard to tell when Imperial Intelligence is involved.  
“Can I assist you in any way?”

Cierah takes a deep breath and then exhales in a mildly frustrated manner.  
“Not unless you are somehow capable of rewinding time and preventing me from ending up at the brink of death. Or, alternatively, if you have some form of invention that makes it possible to eradicate the feeling of discomfort at having machines implanted throughout the entirety of my body, which is a precondition for my survival, and yet causes irregular acute internal pain.”

Okay, this just got a whole lot more awkward. Zal stumbles on her words, not sure what else she can do other than making a swift exit.  
“Ah. That’s-…I’ll stop asking.”

“That would be best.”

Together, they exit this hallway and eventually step into the quarters where the rest of their teams are already waiting, including Nevasc and the newcomers. Much of the personnel salute the duo as they enter, even a few in Cierah’s team, barring Kaliyo, SCORPIO and HK. Kira and Baeleki also refrain from such endeavors. Most of them are seated around a long table in the middle, but not the soldiers, who remain standing along the wall.  
“I see everyone has already arrived”, Zal states. “We’re off to an auspicious start, then. I hope you’re all prepared for what we’re delving into.”

She hears a snort from the main Jedi.  
“What was that, miss fashionably-late-again? ‘course we’re ready. And I even got up early just for you!”

On the other side of the table, Kaliyo lifts a hand and points backwards with her thumb.  
“Saw a bunch of hutt ships outside the window. Seems like the real show is about to begin. Looking forward to the action.”

Raina steers a skeptical gaze towards her companion.  
“Kaliyo, you are aware that’s not the plan, yes? It would be foolish to even try. We’re severely outnumbered.”

“So? That just makes it more fun, Temple.”

Next to Kira sits Baeleki, of course, still clinging to her master like she has done almost the entire journey. That said, Zal has noticed that the togruta has become a little more comfortable with Lakorev now too, since they’ve engaged in a few sparring sessions.  
Quinn dips his head in reverence for Zal.  
“My lord, I can assure you that your team is in prime condition, sufficiently equipped and prepared to disembark on your orders.”

“Thank you, Quinn.” As the commanders stop together on one of the short ends, they aim their eyes to the far side, where two other critical individuals are on their feet.  
“Miss Niar, Lord Cytharat, I assume you’ve studied the planet by now. Assessments?”

As the coordinator, Katha raises her voice first.  
“We have analyzed the reports, yes. I can provide a summary of our conclusions. But first, I believe it would be helpful to introduce the rest of your subordinates. You already know the two of us, but there are more members present.” She gestures towards a red-skinned neimoidian with accompanying orang eyes, in a white lab coat. “This is our chief scientist on the mission.”

The man himself rises and bows deeply, before he speaks in a slightly foreign accent.  
“It’s an honor to be in the company of such prestigious persons. I am Nadrin Tro, member of the New Thinking Division inside the Imperial Science Bureau. My team of engineers and I were handpicked by Darth Acina and we are at your service, to deal with any technological, mechanical or logical predicaments we stumble into on this operation.”

Cierah only briefly inclines her head to acknowledge his presence, while Zal offers a polite smile.  
“I look forward to seeing your team in action, mister Tro.”

While the neimoidian gets seated, Katha gestures towards a human with short black hair and medium brown skin, his eyeing shimmering in hazel.  
“This is the CO of the squad that was transferred into your command.”

He salutes and speaks with a deep, albeit calm voice, clearly of an imperial accent. On his chest, the violet and gold imperial symbol is emblazoned.  
“Captain Clayrom, m’lord, of Spec Ops Section 443-C, codename Impertinence. Proud to be here.”

Cierah snorts brusquely.  
“I wonder how long that will last”, she mutters.

Zal glances skeptically at her fellow leader, but tries to maintain concentration and stability. It’s clear that Cierah isn’t the charismatic type.  
“I’m glad to be working with everyone”, she admits. “This will be a tough mission and our success will ostensibly aid with the Empire’s recovery. Vigilance, discretion and haste is paramount. So let’s stay focused, shall we?  
Miss Niar, continue with the briefing, please. Tell us if you have anything of relevance that we should know about Makeb.”

Katha straightens her stance, trying to shake off the last of her nerves. Mostly, she’s a beacon of formality, deference and order, but that mask sometimes slips off and reveals the fact that she’s still a bit out of her element here, having only been involved with undercover strikes for a few months, after a rapid crash course.  
“Yes, lord Wrath. There are quite a few vital facets, in fact.” She dips her head towards Cytharat and the pureblood pushes a button on the edge of the table. This initiates a built-in holoprojector that lights up, rendering images of the planet, ships in orbit and information about their surroundings.  
“As you can see, a variety of vessels are parked all around Makeb’s space, which makes navigation precarious, if we seek to avoid notice. The planet itself doesn’t make this any easier for us.”

Zal folds her arms, her sharp gaze studying the text that unveils before them.  
“In what way?”

“Makeb is an…unstable world, to say the least, on the geological, geographical, environmental and political planes. Had we nothing but the hutts to contend with, it would’ve made our mission less complex.  
It’s an oceanic planet, with an atmosphere containing a wide assortment of detrimentally natural phenomena. The stratosphere is filled with electromagnetic interference, which makes space travel hazardous on an extended scale.  
Its gravitational pull, while below standard, exhibits some unique anomalies which have evolved into the distortion of its landmasses. The only surfaces one can feasibly land upon are massive stone pillars that rise far above sea level, reaching the planet’s cloud layers.”

As she speaks, Cytharat configures the table to displays a depiction of these components and sights through holograms and photos.  
“The plateaus and mesas created from this result are actually sturdy and large enough to be suitable locations for entire cities and considerable constructions”, she explains. “These settlements were built by the Makeb Business Council, established by the Avesta family, which previously operated all industries.”

Zal frowns and looks towards the human instead.  
“Until the hutts came?”

“Correct. They initially repelled the Hutt’s greedy grasp and forced them to sign a trade agreement. Whether the Cartel got tired or simply found another path is difficult to say, but they recently chose invasion instead, once Toborro took over as Supreme Mogul.”

Cierah scans all of the available images and then directs herself towards Katha as well.  
“Do we have data regarding the hutts currently present on this world?”

“Regrettably, we do not. Our scouts have confirmed the identity of a few ships, but cannot verify whether their leaders were on board. Information regarding representatives from Malgus’ Empire has also not been validated. We’ve chosen to not rule out the possibility that the hutts govern this world on their own.”

Zal shakes her head in an unconvinced fashion.  
“The would-be Emperor letting his most avaricious ally control a critical world like this alone? Doubtful. Even he wouldn’t be that stupid.”

No one responds to this claim, though quite a few give off the implication that they agree. Cierah turns her eye up to Zal’s height and studies her expression.  
“Not a matter that the Force can assist us with, then?”

The twi’lek shrugs.  
“Not yet. I don’t detect anything from this altitude, but they might also be concealing their presence.”

After a small pause, Katha decides to continue her briefing.  
“At any rate, the mesas also house Makeb’s native wildlife, flora and of course, numerous deposits of minerals which include exactly what we’re looking for – isotophe-5.  
Sadly, while the Esoteric Vision has been equipped to a certain extent to combat the unruly weather, the countermeasures have never been tested and if they do not hold upon entry, the mission will end in disaster.”

Cierah furrows her brow.  
“Sounds like an error in the planning phase, then.”

“Actually, the plan was never to land on the surface in the first place. It has merely been applied for emergency purposes. We have primarily been fortified for clandestine flights, to hide from the hutt’s sensors. The latest version of the stealth generators modified by Darth Acina and her team are implemented under its hull.”

The agent runs a hand around her chin.  
“Can we procure the appropriate instruments from the hutts?”

Katha briefly hesitates.  
“By theft, you mean? That…would not be impossible, I believe, but very risky, not to mention unnecessary. The hutts rarely land either.”

Zal blinks perplexedly.  
“They don’t? Then how in the Emperor’s name do they retrieve the isotope?”

With another short dip of her head, Cytharat moves onto the next set of holograms.  
“By way of these – gravity hooks”, says Katha. “They were constructed by Makeb’s mining corporations. Orbital stations connected to the surface with exceptionally lengthy turbolifts. The speed of the elevators leaves much to be desired, though they contain enough magnitude to be useful for a decent cargo haul, despite their limits. Not the optimal solution, I know, but the best circumvention we’ve managed to locate.”

The tip of one of Zal’s lekku slithers in reach of her hand and she brushes her fingers over it while she contemplates their situation.  
“Hmm. Can we seize one of these hooks in some way? By force, if necessary.”

“Yes, my lord. This was the recommended path by our scouts. However, as you have no doubt anticipated, each of them are heavily guarded.”

“By who?”

This is when Cytharat takes over, as Katha steps aside. The pureblood clicks another switch and a symbol pops up next to the image of the planet, though it tells most of them nothing.  
“The InterStellar Regulators”, he informs them. “A mercenary organization that was previously hired by the Business Council. When the hutts invaded, the majority of their success was not attributed to their superior strategy, as they simply purchased the Regulators’ loyalty. A cowardly, but efficient solution.”

Zal rubs the bridge of her nose.  
“Blasted hutts. They’ve got too much damn credits for their own good. Do you know anything about the mercenaries?”

“We do. I’ve studied them closely prior to arrival. They are an accomplished and resourceful company, consisting of numerous former soldiers from the last war, with members from either faction that gathered under the Regulators’ banners. They have met with a lot of success on many worlds, only outshined by the mandalorians.”

Cierah slowly shakes her head.  
“Jovana would be pleased to hear that, no doubt”, she mumbles, enough so only Zal hears.

“They’ve served on Makeb for at least a decade, due to an exclusive contract, but it was apparently not a difficult procedure to gain their loyalty.”

“Could we purchase them as well?”, Zal asks. “If we wanted to, that is.”

Cytharat ponders the inquiry for a few seconds.  
“I cannot foresee any obstacles on a moral level – honor is not their MO. But, sadly, we lack the appropriate funds. Fighting is likely unavoidable.”

Zal glances towards the spy and playfully nudges her shoulder.  
“The conniving Cipher Nine doesn’t have a secret stash of credits anywhere?”

In return, Cierah arches her brow incredulously.  
“…not in the billions. I could collect a sufficient amount from various sources, but this would take time; valuable time that we cannot waste.”

“Tsk. How disappointing.”

“From the gathered intel”, Cytharat continues, “it would appear that the Regulators operate in practically every facility and patrol the perimeters diligently. There are cracks, though, which one could penetrate.”

Zal tilts her body forward, planting her hands on the border of the table.  
“So, essentially, a small team would be the ideal approach in this case. Eliminate the opposition, infiltrate the hook and create an opportunity for the Vision to dock.”

Cytharat moderately bows his head.  
“An astute observation, lord Wrath.”

Cierah folds her arms and begins to pace a little.  
“Not that I disagree, but I’d like to add a suggestion that we target one of the remote stations, with the least hutt activity.”

Once more, Katha reenters the conversation.  
“This can be arranged, commander. One of the gravity hooks on the southern hemisphere should be preferable, as the supervision in that area is deficient.”

“Then that’s our objective”, Zal states confidently. “I propose taking our best assets with us for now – myself, Cierah, HK-51, Kira and Lakorev. A precise and efficient team.”

While the agent doesn’t have any initial complaints, they hear Kaliyo exuding a whiny tone.  
“What? C’mon, you’re leaving the rest of us on this pile of junk? Waste of my talents. I should be down there blasting their asses.”

Technically, she would probably rebel against anything Zal tell her, which is why Cierah interferes.  
“Kaliyo, you’re staying. You make too much noise.”

“Excuse me?!”, she shouts. “How many bases haven’t you and I infiltrated together, huh? This is banthashit!”

Cierah keeps her arms crossed, stonewalling her.  
“My decision is final.”

One who takes a softer and more meagre approach is Baeleki. She leans into her trainer and speaks with a pleading voice.  
“Please, Lord Wrath, let me join you. I…I want to be with Kira.”

They know by now that she can be a fun and very enjoyable person to be around, but in the presence of too many strangers, she gets very anxious.  
Kira herself is quite hesitant, unsure what she should feel in this regard.  
“Zal, I know what you’re probably thinking, but…can’t you be lenient? My padawan isn't a pushover. She can fight.”

The twi’lek watches the two of them with skeptical eyes, though not necessarily disapproving.  
“Hmm. I could consider it, but are you positive this is what you want? This is a life-and-death scenario, Kira. If she makes a mistake, we’re all at risk.”

“I trust her. She’s no pro, but she knows what she’s doing. She’ll follow my advice.”

“I…I can be useful to you, my lord”, says the togruta. “I swear, I won’t fail you.”

It isn’t for the sake of Baeleki’s practical use that Zal is swayed, but the story that Ktila told her about how they recruited the young togruta. If she’s truly a Child of the Emperor, who still hasn’t fully warded off Vitiate’s influence, perhaps leaving her in an instance where she might panic is unwise.  
“Fine. I’ll permit it.”

The padawan breathes out in relief and Kira smiles appreciatively.  
“Thanks, Zal. You’re the best.”

Out of one of the corner where she has been standing, Nevasc suddenly steps into the light again. She has not said a word thus far.  
“Lord Wrath, I offer my skills to you as well. I believe you will see them as an advantage.”

Zal’s softer gaze hardens once again as she hears the smoothly-spoken chiss and stares at her placid demeanor. She has hardly seen her during this trip at all so far, and the trust between them has not grown.  
“Request denied”, she states dismissively. “Our current team is enough.”

“It is adequate, true, but no one, not even Cipher Nine, can match my extended practical experience and expertise. She can attest to that.”

Despite her reluctance, Zal checks with Cierah, who shrugs.  
“She is…talented”, Cierah admits. “No one knows the shadows like her.”

Another person probably won’t ruin the balance, and they could definitely use a stealthy type at melee range. With a reluctant shrug, Zal budges.  
“Very well, we’ll add Nevasc to the roster too, but that’s it. No one else.”

“Actually”, says Cierah, gaining a small glare from Zal. “I suggest we bring Menace too. He is smart and more cunning than he looks. He can act as an aerial scout. I have a camera that I can attach to him and link with my implants.”

Zal rolls her eyes, cursing her own tolerance. If she were any other Sith, a lot of people wouldn’t be so quick to make brazen proposals.  
“Fine, take the damn bird too. Any more criticisms of my plan? No? Then I believe we’ve come to a decision. We must strike hard and swift once we’re down on the surface. Be prepared for our signal, miss Niar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, most of this info is from the in-game Makeb story. Just needed to feature it here for context._


	54. Plateau pounce

Makeb has been a pretty peaceful planet for most of its lifecycle. Prior to its discovery, it was a world untouched by the grasping hands of the largest factions in the galaxy and was at best viewed as a conundrum. Once it became settled during the Mandalorian Wars, after an accidental crash landing, it was uncovered that the world below the turbulent outer layers was not just rich in minerals and useful resources, but also a beautiful place to live, nigh verdant. Despite a lack of vast grassy fields or mountain ranges, the tall platforms and mesas can provide many extraordinary sights, with pockets of serene pools and small lush valleys.

Nowadays, several of the plateaus are inhabited by more sentient species, particularly ones that were previously affiliated with the Business Council, which means that buildings, factories and critical facilities were introduced to the spotless nature. Some of them have very large coned structures fastened to their soil, with enormously long metal poles that extend all the way into space, being so called gravity hooks; a quite crude resolution to the inherent danger of piercing its atmosphere.  
At the foot of these hooks, one can normally find a series of accompanying facilities that house troops, equipment, HoloNet arrays and more. This means that soldiers, or mercenaries rather, constantly have to guard and patrol them. This can, unfortunately, get very boring.

At the outskirts of a specific outpost, not too far from a gravity hook on the southern hemisphere and a pretty big precipice, an old human InterStellar Regulator Sergeant, with light skin and greying brown hair, is strolling nearby his squad and utilizes his comm unit, which is attached to his wrist.  
“Come in, Beta. Squad Beta 2241, respond. Do you copy?”

Sadly, he receives nothing but static as a reply, which makes him furrow his brow and wonder what the hell is going on. Not only is he getting worried, but he’s also becoming increasingly agitated by the lack of similar concern from his squad, who are doing nothing more than basically loitering. This isn’t exactly an unusual sight on Makeb, but in the precarious situation after the hutt’s takeover, it isn’t something he can condone.

Currently, they’re talking a bunch of nonsense, as one of the Corporals, a slick devaronian, is telling a story to the rest of the platoon, about two dozen people.  
“So, my pal over at Talaos, right, he was going to capture one of ‘em Council members that refused to stand down, with his squad. Everything was going smoothly, especially with guards. The team just told ‘em that the hutts would be paying their salaries now and if they resisted, they were subdued, no problem. However, they hadn’t anticipated that the guy himself would be the issue. Apparently, the morons hadn’t been briefed about the specs and expected another pad-pushing chump with more credits than sense and strength.” The Corporal chuckles. “Instead, the blasted dumbasses bumbled right into a big hulking Gen’Dai, angry as a gundark. Buddy told me it was the biggest, ugliest SOB he’s ever seen, and though this guy was a businessman, he wasn’t a sucker. My pal almost shat his pants. The Gen’Dai probably toppled five guys on his own, before they finally had a chance to knock him on his ass, but he wasn’t done, oh no. Just as they thought they had ‘im clutched, he-“

The story never reaches its conclusion, as the Sergeant suddenly interferes.  
“Alright, enough chitchat. Get off your asses. Play time’s over.”

The entire platoon turns to look at their superior, most of them being fairly confused.  
“Uh, Sarge?”, asks the Corporal. “What’s up?”

“Beta squad hasn’t reported in for their regular all-clear signal. We gotta go check on ‘em.”

The squad begins to grumble. There’s a shift change in half an hour and they don’t really want to go for even further overtime. The Corporal rolls his eyes.  
“C’mon, Sarge, why you gotta be such a stickler? They’re probably bored, just like the rest of us.”

Not a satisfactory reply, especially if one considers the potential consequences.  
“You think that’s an excuse to fail with protocol, Corporal?”

“What are you so worried about? That they fell asleep?”

“That’s a suitable concern, in case of a surprise attack.”

The devaronian arches his brow perplexedly.  
“You serious? Out here? By which fucking army, Sarge? The ginx?”

The other mercs laugh, which only helps to exacerbate the Sergeant’s already quite foul mood.  
“Alright, enough lip! Get on your feet, we’re moving out. Unless any of you bucketheads want me to fill my next report with a bunch of insubordination cases.”

With excessive sighs, they rise and mutter, cursing his name under their breaths, but don’t oppose his order. They know he’s got some pull with people of higher rank.  
Unfortunately, while the Sergeant was right to be worried that something was amiss, the level of peril was not what either he nor anyone in the platoon could’ve anticipated. The truth is unveiled for them too quickly to process.

Once they’ve left their outpost, wandered across a bridge and approach what appears to be a deserted defensive station that should belong to Beta 2241, the area erupts.  
The Sergeant is the first to go, as he receives a long-distance blaster shot straight into his skull, discharged by a muffled sniper rifle on a raised platform. It isn’t silenced completely, but certainly dampened enough to obscure it from notice by other distant squads.

The mercenaries are initially in shock, as they had not expected such an abrupt turn of events, and while some scramble for a sense of order, it takes another shot that kills a second trooper before they all dash for cover. They leap and slide behind constructed barriers, vehicles and walls, countermeasures that have been used on Makeb for a while, but became even more prevalent once the hutts seized control. In the past, it was used to protect against the occasional violent fauna and what few exterior threats existed.

“Contact! Up there, on the roof! Second building!”, one of the soldiers yell, as they spot the perched sniper.

“Return fire!”, yells the Corporal.

About two dozen blaster rifles immediately unleash salvos to take down their single adversary, who is forced to retreat behind a rooftop fence.  
In the ensuing chaos, the soldiers soon notice a quartet of people that emerge from the door of the building. It’s a rather diverse party too, with a chiss, a human, a togruta and one tall twi’lek that leads the charge. The soldiers obviously expect that these people work with their attacker, seeing as how they don’t utilize Regulator gear, but each of them soon unveils a terrifying sight when they equip their weapons – lightsabers.

“Holy shit”, is the Corporal’s first words, before he tries to shake the astonishment off. “Uh, fire! Blast those fucking Sith or Jedi or…whatever they are!”

With the entire squad switching targets, a wave of bolts rain down upon the Force users, but this does not prove to be a concern in any impeding way. Barring the togruta, each of them deflect pretty much every shot with ease, some even being redirected back towards their shooters. The togruta padawan does her best to emulate these abilities, but has to receive at least a smidgen of assistance in order to stay intact.

Recognizing the total disaster they’re in, the Corporal turns to yell over his shoulder.  
“Hey, someone make a beeline for the barracks and activate the droids! The new ones! We’re not gonna win this fight otherwise!”

“I’m on it!”, yells a private, who takes it upon himself to achieve this goal.

He never gets that far. Outside of his peripheral view, he only notes at the last second how a shimmering shadow creeps up behind him. An armored arm seizes his head and before he can counter this action, a vibrodagger slits his throat. His body tumbles lifelessly to the ground as his attacker drops him and with her stealth generator flickering, Nevasc appears at the rear of their positions. Once she’s done with him, the older chiss swiftly sheathes the smaller blade and draws the vibrosword from her back. She rushes nimbly and stealthily into a second opponent and stabs them from behind, extracts her blade, spins around and cuts down another in the span of two seconds. The entire time, she looks unfazed, her cold expression not changing.

As her movements are finally disclosed to the rest of the mercs, Nevasc is forced to shield herself with the cover that she cleared, but she’s obviously not alone. From the other side, Lakorev and Kira enhances their agility and speed with the Force, to leap through the air, skipping past the barrier between themselves and the defenders. They cause immediate chaos in the center of their foes, who aren’t fully sure how to react to this type of tactics. There are a few veterans, but most have not been trained to defeat Jedi or Sith, even less when they fight together.

The devaronian Corporal, who had previously been so skeptical of this outcome, realizes that he has to call for backup. Since their wrist comms aren’t doing much for them, he tries to sprint up to one of the network consoles nearby, which should be able to reach any outpost and even the gravity hook personnel. He does manage to access the device, but not activate it. Before he can click the button, Zal’riva spots him and assesses his intent.

“No, I don’t think so”, she says and extends her hand. Suddenly, he senses how he can’t move his body, as if an invisible field has captured him in its clutches. She easily raises him into the air and then tosses him right off the closest ledge, forcing him to endure quite a harrowing death.

Lakorev and Kira, while undoubtedly being tutored in entirely disparate styles, have fairly comparable techniques. They’re both swift, limber, confident and precise. All of this proves to be utterly devastating when allowed to intersect. They both strike independently, but occasionally assist one another with parries or counterattacks.

The primary component that separates them is probably attitude. Kira tends to be easy to provoke, despite her denial, while Lakorev is usually the man who provokes his own opponents. It also cannot be ignored that the chiss is far more ruthless. He has few scruples about killing without delay. Kira doesn’t fully share this view.  
As for Baeleki, she stays in the rear for now, not too far from their twi’lek commander, who regularly reinforces the padawan’s defenses where required. Baeleki is still learning the ways of wielding a lightsaber. Or fighting overall, for that matter.

The anarchy of combat soon abates, when yet another mercenary squad has been taken out of commission. As she registers this fact, Zal activates her own comm unit.  
“Cierah, what’s your status?”

Before she can respond, a mechanical voice interjects.  
“Report: All targets in sight are neutralized”, HK-51 declares. “Advancing to the next area.”

“The situation here is going smoothly as well”, says Cierah from wherever she’s currently operating. “I’ve sliced into their system and I’m currently disrupting the exterior communication capabilities belonging to this station.”

If one were to look inside the building where she’s standing, except for the abundance of screens and terminals, one might also detect at least four incapacitated mercenaries. Cipher’s Menace is sitting on top of one, pecking at them with his beak.  
“Do you have suggestions?”, Zal inquires.

“For now, I believe it would be wisest to deactivate the entire grid, but I shall keep it on standby. Upon capture of the gravity hook’s orbital base, I will reconnect it. This will allow us to sever this facility from the network and reduce the risk of reinforcements.”

Zal sheathes her weapon and watches how her allies check the bodies of their fallen enemies for potential advantages.  
“Very well. Do you want us to wait for you, before we enter the next complex?”

“No. Proceed. HK and I will sweep the ground level in the meantime.”

The Sith arches her brow, wondering what Cierah is up to. It’s not that she distrusts the agent, but leaving her like this makes Zal a little nervous.  
“You sure that’s a good idea? There are only two of you.”

Instead of getting a response from Cierah, the droid speaks up.  
“Assurance: Your concern is noted, but unnecessary, master Wrath. The level of these undesirables is feeble and highly disposable. I haven’t yet activated my optimal assassination protocol parameters, which shall expedite the process further.”

“I’ll…take that as an affirmative, then. Good luck.”

Zal closes the channel and the team begins to move on, but they’re temporarily impeded by an element that makes them somewhat nervous - the ground starts to shake and tremble, like an earthquake. It lasts only for a few seconds, but that does not remove the troubling implications.  
“What the hell is that?”, asks Kira. “Second time it’s happened so far.”

The twi’lek narrows her eyes, gazing across the precipice and the very steep fall below.  
“No idea, but I doubt it’s favorable for us in any way. Let’s hurry this along, so we can gather more data.”

They proceed with hastened steps, excluding HK, Cierah and Menace. Any foes on the bottom level of the gravity hook are quickly eliminated and they then grab the turbolift which leads to the orbital station. The ride up with the transport vehicle attached to the pole takes several minutes, which isn’t unreasonable, considering how far they have to travel.

Inside the station at the top layers, just outside the threshold of the planet, a Regulator administrative team is conducting their operations as usual, but they are not without company. They are currently supervised by a houk, but the outfit he sports belongs to a different group. He’s one of the Hutt Cartel’s personal guards and henchmen. While the hutts have mainly left the surface maintenance to the Regulators, the more important facets have to be controlled by people they trust.

For the time being, the houk leader is kinda bored and annoyed. His mood does not improve when the procedure he just ordered isn’t going accordingly.  
“Hey, what did I tell you lousy slackers? Where’s that all-clear signal? Our furry freak commander wants his regular reports or he’s gonna come down hard on us.”

The personnel glances at each other, displaying uncertainty that they later aim at the houk.  
“Uh, sorry sir, we can’t provide that right now.”

The big man frowns and approaches them as they sit on their chairs behind the computer terminals.  
“What? Why the hell not?”

“We’re having some…network complications.”

“Could be atmospheric interference”, another mentions. “Happens quite regularly here.”

The houk groans and rubs his forehead.  
“You fucking idiots have been here for decades and you haven’t dealt with this kind of crap already?”

“Well, previously, these stations were operated by engineers and staff hired by the Business Council, but-“

Their explanation is interrupted by a noise outside the blast door, in the room with the elevator. A small explosion is followed by blaster rifles being discharged.  
“What was that?”

The first of the Regulator admins inspects the screen of the terminal, but gains no real answers.  
“Don’t know. Comms are down, so we can’t check status on the surface.”

After taking a deep breath, the houk groans and grabs his huge vibrosword resting on a nearby table.  
“Laserbrains. Gotta do everything yourself around here…”  
He gestures for a few other Cartel soldiers to follow him and together, they stride towards the exit. Just after it opens up, they become witnesses to the turmoil outside, instigated by multiple people with lightsabers and of course, the impressively tall twi’lek.  
“Hey, what’s going on? And who the fuck are you?!”

Zal arches her brow, eyes him standing there on top of a small set of stairs and as soon as she spots his weapon, she begins to smirk.  
“Greetings, my good man. You may call me Zal’riva and if you don’t mind, I shall be taking your station.”

“Excuse me? Over my dead body, you piece o’ shit!”

“That’s the idea.”

As he is not appropriately prepared, she uses the Force to trip him over and then charges at him with unnatural speed. Before he manages to evade, she thrusts the saber straight into his chest, briefly nailing him to the ground and then rapidly presses on.  
While Zal deals with the reinforcements that he brought, Kira and Lakorev charge ahead, approaching the Regulators and Cartel troops that still linger by the consoles. Since they’re trying to combat Cierah’s digital sabotage, it seems prudent to end their resistance.

In the meantime, the Regulators stationed in the elevator region try to swap strategy. They’re clearly unused to fighting opponents of this magnitude, as Sith are seldom included in the standard exercises. However, while Zal, Kira and Lakorev prove to be most arduous targets, Baeleki is easier to tackle. If she doesn’t have enough support, she instantly starts to falter. With Zal’s more offensive stride, she has shirked her previous role and left the padawan open to flanking maneuvers.

Baeleki’s anxiety and panic quickly rises when her foes increase in numbers and she can’t hold them off for much longer. Eventually, her angst reaches a climax as she receives a bolt right through her arm and then another in her leg.  
The togruta screams in pain and stumbles to her knees, but instead of dropping completely to the ground in pain and despair, her body begins to transform. Her mind bursts open, invoking the latent power that rests in her, a visceral incantation.

All of the Force users suddenly detect an immense surge of power, on a scale they’ve rarely encountered, being enough to practically startle them.  
Baeleki instinctively lifts her hands, conjuring a barrier crafted from lightning that wards against any blaster shots that try to harm her. Once the attacks slow down, she raises her head and divulges her blackened eyes to her enemies. This is succeeded by a stream of dark side energy that flies towards them, hitting at least two people, but doesn’t stop. Using them as springboards, it injects itself into four more people. The attack is so fierce that it almost fries each of them to a crisp.

As the energy disperses, her opponents hurtle lifelessly to the floor and Baeleki regains control of herself, but she loses her footing and collapses on the ground. There are still a few Regulators left and with that terrifying demonstration, it’s now urgent that they kill her first.  
Luckily, a savior is nearby. Like a shadow, Nevasc flanks the mercenaries, stabbing her first foe in the side and uses the momentum to circle around and slash another over the leg. She kicks this person into one of their allies and decapitates a fourth.

The chiss opens enough of a gap for Zal and Lakorev to come and assist her, while Kira sprints towards her padawan, kneeling down by her side.  
“Baeleki!”, she yells as she slides to the ground and tries to lift her friend up. With slightly shaking hands and a hefty breath, she caresses the togruta’s cheeks. “Baeleki, are you alright?”

The young woman does seem to be alive, though she’s disoriented and drained.  
“I…I’m sorry, Kira. I…wasn’t mindful of my surroundings.”

“It’s fine, you don’t need to apologize. That power, though. Was it…?”

Baeleki swallows and shuts her eyes.  
“I don’t know where it came from.”

The others can hazard a guess, particularly Zal. There’s only one person she has sensed such a font of destruction from before.  
After finding some kolto to apply on her padawan’s wounds, Kira makes sure to look at Nevasc.  
“Hey, thanks for the save. Couldn’t have done that without you.”  
Nevasc doesn’t do anything else than offer a terse nod.

With victory achieved, Zal approaches a terminal in the command center and provides a signal for Cierah that they have what they need. With the network restored, she connects with another source.  
“Esoteric Vision? This is Wrath. Mission accomplished.”


	55. Auspicious gall

One could feasibly make the assumption that a ride which involves both a Jedi and a mandalorian would be, if not outright antagonistic, then at the very least contested. Due to their divergent philosophies and viewpoints on a number of topics, they tend to clash and bicker, with only a few more cordial intermissions here and there. However, not all individuals on both sides are the same, nor do they aspire to similar goals, if they have incentives to cooperate.

Ktila and Jovana’s flight on the Shielded Path together has been exceedingly peaceful. The tension that infected the Makeb team is not present in nearly the same fashion, predominantly due to the fact that a lot of them knew each other from previous joint activities and have few issues with the company. Even the two leaders have gotten along famously, and Ktila has to admit that Jov is a profoundly pleasant person to be around, despite their differences.

Sure, she can’t really overlook the fact that the bounty hunter is blunter than most people she is used to, even Kira, and Jov’s perspective is definitely dissimilar in multiple angles, but she’s not an unreasonable nor a callous entity, like much of the Jedi Order tends to insist. She cares about a lot of things, she recognizes the value of honor and compassion, but puts more stock in combat and physical challenges. Those are sentiments that Ktila can invariably respect.

Currently, the duo is walking through the Shielded Path’s corridors side by side, in order to meet up with their team. Jov is wearing her red and white armor, which tends to be her preferred attire, while Ktila has opted for a bronze-colored robe, with white and beige clothes underneath.  
“I don’t really get this whole Emperor thing”, says Jovana. Ktila referenced her involvement with him earlier.  
“Like, isn’t he dead? That’s what the news said a while back, right?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“Then why would you still be hunting ‘im?”

Ktila sighs slowly, realizing that this is a lot to dig into for someone that is so fervently out of the loop. Normally, she would probably ignore such a request, for the fact that it isn’t a civilian matter. Then again, Jov is no ordinary civilian and Valcera has vowed that she can safely be relied on.  
“As it turns out, one cannot easily kill someone with such immense power as Vitiate has obtained.”

Jov raises her eyebrow skeptically.  
“Vitiate?”

“Yes, it’s his name. Or ‘title’ is a better term, I suppose.”

The hunter considers the classification for a moment, but eventually chooses to just shake her head.  
“Sith. I’ll never get ‘em.” A small smile form’s on Ktila’s lips at this reaction. Good to hear that even their allies can be confounded.  
“So, what, he’s immortal?”

“Not…exactly, but he has no need for a corporeal body to remain intact. His spirit can live on for an impressively long time without a physical outlet, but eventually must anchor itself to something in order to not fade away. However, he only has to acquire an appropriate host to survive and there are many.”

“Riiight. He’s basically a ghost Emperor, then?”

Ktila tentatively scratches her cheek.  
“Uh, sure, that’s one way to view him.”

“Then why are you guys having so much trouble? Don’t you people have like, a Jedi ghost vacuum or somethin’? Just scoop the fucker up.”

Jovana has made a lot of peculiar statements during their trip together, some funnier than others. At this moment, Ktila isn’t sure whether she’s jesting or not, which is why she merely stares at the mando for several seconds.  
“Erm, that’s…not how the Force works.”  
´  
“No? Some Sith have told me it’s limitless.”

“Well, yes, it is, sort of, but-“

“So what’s the issue?”

Ktila exhales and corrects her hair. She can be fairly incessant.  
“You have to separate the concepts of the Force and tangible reality. As energy and presence, it is boundless, yes, but people are not. We’re mortal and finite. To reach the type of depths that Vitiate has chosen to traverse, one has to perform terrible deeds and warp the very laws of existence, which is prone to strip you of all that makes you a person.”

Finally, Jov appears to acknowledge the point Ktila is making, by nodding.  
“Ah, right. Not a Jedi thing.”

“It rarely is.”

“Guess I can respect that. Not too fond of Sith banthashit either. Still not sure I really understand how the fuck this Vitiate guy works, but should you ever need an extra pair o’ blasters, gimme a call and I’ll come flying.”

This is a pleasant surprise for Ktila, who certainly hadn’t anticipated such a candid and audacious offer.  
“Even if that means fighting strange and terrifying Force users?”

For whatever reason, this statement brings a grin onto Jov’s lips.  
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned after I started working for the Empire, it’s that Sith are almost always overrated.”

Ktila chuckles and plants a hand on the mando’s arm.  
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

It’s around this time that they finally enter the area where the rest of their teams are waiting, and unsurprisingly, a fight is transpiring. Or more accurately, a sparring session.  
Torian and Ayzera are standing in the center of an open space, near the holoprojector, kind of in the middle of their gathered allies. They’re both equipped with practice weapons, simple shock blades that are tuned to the lower settings.

Their weapons collide over and over, and while Torian constantly tries to assess his opponent’s movements, by homing in on her feet and observing her hands, it’s difficult to tell what the equivalent would be on Ayzera. She doesn’t have eyes like a human, after all, though her sight is possibly more advanced.  
Eventually, after Torian charges into another rapid assault, the miraluka manages to mislead him and without utilizing the Force. She lures him in by feigning weakness and when he least expects it, she dodges to the side, slaps his main hand holding the blade with surprising efficiency and disarms him. As he becomes exposed, she lifts her weapon and holds it at his throat.

Torian doesn’t seem disappointed or fazed much at all, except for the panting. He eventually holds up his hands.  
“Ori’jate. Impressive too. You’re faster than you look.”

His praise brings a small smile to Ayzera, who lowers her blade and steps back.  
“So are you, mister Cadera. I wasn’t aware of how accurately mandalorians could predict Sith maneuvers.”

He relaxes as he gets some space and rolls his shoulders.  
“We can’t. Just instinct. Gotta watch body movements, mostly. Hunts tend to be the same.”

With the confrontation having ended, a bit of clapping fills the room, originating from Blizz’s seat.  
“Very interesting clash! Never get to see Sith fight. Very cool!”

On the sofa attached to the wall sits three other women. Two have a cushion each, but Mako has plonked herself down on the armrest. She steers a smile towards the more experienced Sith.  
“Hey, your apprentice is pretty cute, Willsaam.”

Jaesa meets her gaze and returns a slightly sweeter version of the same expression.  
“She is indeed and very talented. I hadn’t expected to receive such a diligent student.”

“Heh. Reminds me of someone.”

Vette, who’s of course sitting next to her girlfriend and holding Jaesa’s hand, smirks at the slicer.  
“Don’t let her sweet exterior trick ya, though. Zera here can be pretty fierce when she needs to.”

“Well, she’s a Sith, so I kinda figured.”

Now that the commanders are in the room, Jov sports another little grin as she strolls up to her fellow mando and playfully nudges her elbow into his side.  
“What was that, huh? Only spent a day or two in here and you’re already losing fights, Cadera?”

Torian isn’t easy to goad, so he merely shrugs.  
“It happens, especially with talented opponents. This was a good learning experience. Should spar with more Sith.”

“Not a bad idea, but the problem is finding one that wanna do it with us. Maybe I should talk to Bery, see if she can hook us up.”

In the corner of these quarters stands the only pureblood in the crew. He has been silently observing this encounter, but now that it’s finished, he apparently has some opinions to express.  
“Your applied strength is too meager, mandalorian”, he admonishes Torian. “Such attitudes will never defeat a proper Sith.  
And you, the Marr whelp, you leave yourself open far too many times. You trounced this mediocre Force blind warrior, but if this is your best practice form, I lament your chances against real opponents. You will be dead in seconds.”

Ayzera looks a little deterred and disappointed with the scathing remark. She deactivates the weapon, holds it meagerly in both hands and lowers both her head and shoulders.  
“Y…yes, my lord. I shall take your criticism to heart.”

Someone who takes umbrage at this brazen and callous approach is the trainer herself. Jaesa frowns and stands up.  
“Lord Scourge, I would appreciate if you didn’t assume to instruct _my_ apprentice about her performance.” Her expression softens somewhat once she gazes at the miraluka.  
“Don’t be so quick to doubt yourself, Ayzera. You did very well, especially since you were hampered.”

“It should not have been viewed as an impediment, but par for the course”, claims Scourge. “A Sith should never rely too heavily on the Force. It makes us weak.”

Jaesa starts to glower at the other Sith, her right hand clenching and the air becomes thicker, as an aura of indignance expands around her. She’s not ordinarily one to flare up, but it seems that in matters concerning her apprentice, she will not be lenient. A trait she has inherited from Zal, perhaps.  
“I would watch my tongue if I were you, Lord Scourge”, she declares firmly. “Some Sith will see this behavior as an insult. I, however, will do you the courtesy of offering a warning: do not presume to lecture _my_ student. And do not make me repeat this statement.”

The room grows eerily silent after her assertion, for no one had anticipated such ferocity, not even Vette. Most had of course hoped they could avoid a conflict, but the least expected route was for these two to potentially start fighting.  
As Scourge unhurriedly shifts towards her, he doesn’t appear particularly discouraged or afraid, which no one would’ve surmised anyhow. The noteworthy element that shimmers through his eyes, however, is that he seems slightly impressed. Did he engineer this outcome?

The only way to effectively disarm this potential explosion is to ask Ktila to interfere, which she does.  
“Go easy with the comments, Scourge. It’s not like this was a fight to the death.”

The pureblood steers his disapproval to his companion instead.  
“One should always treat every battle in such capacity.”

Ktila snorts amusedly and slides her hands down to her hips.  
“Really? Think you and I have had a few exercises where we didn’t. Don’t be too brusque.”

This scenario does subside, slowly but surely. Compared to most of the others, Gault – who’s also in the room – has not been even the slightest interested in the encounter. He’s mostly been browsing his datapad, which means he totally missed their arrival.  
“Ah, and here come our illustrious commanders. Maybe we can finally get down to business now, before I grow bored out of my mind. I have other endeavors outside of this little leisurely jaunt, you know, so perhaps we can speed this up?”

Jov crosses her arms and throws an uninspired look towards him.  
“Keeping yourself busy while we’re planning to assassinate an ex-Dark Councilor?”

“Oh, always. You know me by now, Vlasic. While I leave the trite details to my trusted accomplices, I’m working on some more lucrative angles for us. Already have a few lined up.”

The rest of the team hears it and Ktila watches him quizzically.  
“I’m…not sure what to say.”

“Bah, ignore him”, Mako tells her with a nonchalant wave. “He’s always like this. But he’s probably got a point too – you two have arrived now, so maybe it’s time to talk tactics?”

Ktila nods and swaps place, positioning herself in a slightly central spot together with T7-O1. Ayzera and Jaesa head to the sofa, while Jov leans against the holoprojector, with Torian at her side.  
“Agreed”, Ktila concurs. “T7, can you access the files on the planet we’re setting down on?”  
The astromech beeps affirmatively and then waits a few seconds, before he can activate his own projector. A hologram of a planet soon begins to rotate in the middle, which happens to be the world they’re situated not too far outside of.  
“Right, this is it. This is the world where our mission will take us – Alvirrad, a planet in the outer layers of imperial space. I don’t know how many of you read the files we received beforehand, but it was conquered by the New Empire just a few months ago. According to the reports Imperius sent to me, the planetary government surrendered quite swiftly. They didn’t really have much in terms of defenses and saw no reason to allow themselves to be destroyed. The priorities of the Dark Council matter little out here.”

“Seems like a weird system to pick for a base”, Jov comments.

“That depends how you view the situation. Decimus has opted to reform it into his primary lair due to its remote location and sizable resources. He often returns here to refuel and restock. They provide materials for weapons and spare parts as well. If the Sith Empire begins to push back, then he won’t be the first one to get hit.”

Jov tilts her head back and forth.  
“Eh. Clever, I suppose. I’d call him a coward, though.  
Guess we can’t just storm the place?”

Ktila disregards the idea with a shake of her head.  
“That could have been a preferable solution with other foes, but this mission isn’t so straightforward. Regrettably, Decimus isn’t constantly within reach. In fact, for the majority of his time here, he tends to linger in his stealth ship, which usually drifts around in orbit, surrounded by several others of the same model. After their defeat at Ziost, they’ve had to lick their wounds and a lot of the crafts are still enduring extended repairs and maintenance. It does marginally reduce our risk, but not remove it.”  
T7’s holographic images switch to instead display some kind of map or blueprint, with a complex of buildings.  
“The dilemma we have to tackle is not just finding a way inside his surface headquarters, but also either figure out a way to track his landing schedule or to lure him down, without raising suspicion.”

The oldest of the mandalorians strokes her chin with her gauntleted hand as she scans the location’s many nooks and crannies, but comprehensive strategy isn’t really her expertise.  
“Can’t we just attack his ship?”

“Sadly, no. Too risky. There are so many vessels around him that they will take notice almost immediately. Unlike them, we aren’t equipped with stealth generators and although the Shielded Path is an impressive vehicle, they can easily surround and wipe us out in seconds. We could try the direct approach and charge into Decimus, but it’s improbable that we’ll manage to overpower the shields in time. Not only is his craft better equipped, but more advanced. In a fair fight, the Shielded Path doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Then a planetside scouting session seems like a superior choice, yes?”, Jaesa suggests. “We can inspect his capabilities and analyze his holdings for weaknesses.”

“It’d probably be smarter to grab a neutral vessel for that, though”, Vette asserts. “They might know the Path, if you’ve collided before.”

Mako nods quickly.  
“Can easily be fixed. In fact, Gault and I were discussing a plot earlier that we could employ here. He has a bunch of fake names and identities that we haven’t used much yet. We’d approach them as business associates from a neutral world, interested in extending a profitable hand to the New Empire. Once we gain access to the building, as long as it’s got a terminal, I can slice into the system and snatch us a line.”

This plan isn’t inconceivable at all, at least not to Ktila, who’s already beginning to map out a large-scale process.  
“You’re right. They will likely require a lot of allies to fully whittle the Empire into dust.”

“My innate Force ability allows me to determine the nature of anyone in my vicinity”, Jaesa reveals. “I could use this to help you examine the competition.”

“It’s a decent plan”, Ktila assents, “but we have to be very cautious. There will probably be a number of Sith all around the perimeter. Our emotions might become exposed to them as well.”

The apprentice has remained silent up until now, but offers her own insight in this gap.  
“Would it not plausible for you, me and master Willsaam to cooperate in tandem, to create a mental shielding and block off such maneuvers?”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose we could, but it has to be carefully crafted as to not make our enemies suspicious.”

In the middle of all this scheming and pensive deliberation, Jov suddenly inserts herself.  
“Why do we have to go through all that rigmarole? Why don’t we just hijack one of their ships and pretend to fly it up to Decimus for a chat?”

The entire team falls silent with this proposal and turns to look at each other. At first, blatant skepticism roams between them, as if it’s utterly ludicrous to even ponder the possibility. But then…  
“Uh…can that be done?”, asks Ktila.

Mako runs a hand on the back of her neck, as calculations churn in her mind and cybernetics, faster than regular people.  
“Well, I mean, it’s…technically possible. We’d have to make a different set of preparations and operate a lot faster.”

“Imp scouts said that at least a few ships land pretty frequently”, Vette reports. “Tracking down a grounded one shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Yeah, but there’s still a few snags. Like, sure, we’ve got the schematics, but I have no idea how to operate a stealth generator, the accompanying accessories or the upgraded systems.”

“Not to worry”, proclaims Ktila and pats her droid companion’s head. “T7 can deal with that. He can chat up any computer.”

“T7-O1 + configurative access = always viable. // T7 = Not overexcited. // Imperial systems = Rude nature + quick to terminate cooperation”, the droid utters in a tone that most don’t quite understand, though both Mako and Ktila picks it up.

“Right, well, then there’s the problem of navigation”, Mako continues. “I mean, we don’t know anyone who can fly it, do we?”

“Psh”, they hear Vette emitting. “I can handle any flying procedures. I’ve operated a bunch of different imperial vehicles by now. How hard can it be?”

“Mm. We also have to acquire stuff like, access codes, order regulations, proper command files, audio filters etc.”

To show her support, Jov walks over to her friend and near little sister, to pat her shoulder.  
“You can get it for us, Mako. Never seen a network that you couldn’t crack.”

“Heh, maybe.”

“We will also have to convince Decimus of our intentions”, Jaesa mentions.

Jov shrugs.  
“Bah, we just need a believable lie and someone who sounds imp-y enough. The Scourge guy can handle that, right?”

The group veers to view the pureblood, who begins to glare at the mandalorian, but after a brief and expectant look from Ktila, he gives in.  
“If I must.”

Mako takes a deep breath and lifts her own datapad, to write down a bunch of notes.  
“Right, okay. I guess the last hurdle is to seize the ship itself. Y’know, discreetly. That’s not gonna be a walk in the park.”

Fortunately, this makes Jov smirk.  
“And that’s where we come in, right? Three Sith, two mandos, one Jedi, a bunch of blaster enthusiasts – pretty sure we’ve got enough firepower to crush ‘em in no time.”

“No doubt ‘bout it”, Vette agrees.

Ktila glances between the entirety of her team and most of them begin to face her too.  
“Okay. I guess we’re stealing a ship then.”


	56. A truth carved

So, it would appear that the group underestimated the tremors quite severely, for being far more benign than the reality.  
The clandestine imperial team on Makeb is currently not just working overtime and on high alert, but as swiftly and efficiently as they can possibly muster. The reason? After a recent scouting mission where they tried to shed light on the hutts' operational activity, they discovered that the planet is apparently coming apart.

The greedy Cartel has started drilling so pervasively and intensely that it’s becoming unsustainable. Practically all of Makeb will soon become uninhabitable, much less mineable. The hutts appear to be cognizant of this outcome, but are undisturbed by the consequences. They only seem keener on digging as much of the mineral as they can scrounge up. It’s not as if anyone is particularly surprised by the callousness, as it’s perfectly in line with their modus operandi, but the results will be dire for the Empire.

This strenuous process does obviously require the whole team to work as one, who strive to not just fight and carve out new exploitable avenues among their enemies, but also calibrations, estimations and tactics.  
During this campaign, Lakorev has been stationed fairly close to Lord Cytharat, after requesting this role directly from his master, who reluctantly agreed. It can’t be ignored that the two actually do get a lot of work done, as they are studious, creative and avid servants of the Empire. But, there are also more…suggestive elements.

Occasionally, like at this very moment, Lakorev studies his partner and truly basks in the majesty and beauty of the pureblood, a strong and capable man. His appearance, especially the hair, is always neat and tidy, the jewelry he wears seem particularly polished and the dark side that flows around him is noticeable, but not overbearing.  
Lakorev has not tried to push, at least not initially, as he wished to be sure that Cytharat wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Thankfully, he has shown some minor interest.

After scouring the latest reports regarding hutt tactics, Lakorev takes the datapad over to where the pureblood is standing in his own corner. Cytharat is examining the various information and images they’ve retrieved, his eyes transfixed and undaunted. It’s a gaze that ignites a spark in the chiss’ chest.  
“Your performance from the base on our last dispatch was impeccable, by the way. Couldn’t have gotten inside that facility without you.”

The pureblood straightens his posture and turns to view his partner, offering a light nod.  
“I’m glad that you’re pleased. But, of course, your skill was a sight to behold as well. I perused the footage in the aftermath, how you struck your foes down with competence and intensity. Very impressive.”

Lakorev smirks and crosses his arms, leaving his pad under them.  
“Yes, I have heard I can be a most delectable vision. Can’t blame you for salivating.”

A speck of a smile glimmers onto Cytharat’s lips and he shakes his head.  
“I assure you, nothing was spilt.”

“That can be fixed.”  
He gradually walks closer, lowering the tone of his voice. There shouldn’t be anyone listening, but just to be sure.  
“I do sincerely hope you don’t intend to loiter here for the entire mission. A man of your proficiency should get to stretch his legs every now and then. I’d relish the chance to fight alongside you.”

The gleaming yellow eyes drift up, towards the vibrant red of the chiss, inspecting him ardently.  
“The feeling is mutual. I’m certain it will happen later on, once a more pertinent and critical assignment appears.”

“You’ll show me how a real Sith fights, hmm?”

“If it pleases you.”

“Unquestionably. You have that talent."

The spark can now doubtlessly be detected from the other end as well and the heat between them expands, thriving to new lengths. A magnetic force seemingly materializes in the center, inadvertently decreasing the distance in a steady fashion. It would not be an especially onerous act to simply grab the other man’s arm, pull him in and-  
This fantasy will have to wait, for before Lakorev can make a move, he receives a message on his comm unit that unfortunately makes a shrill noise.

The chiss snorts, flashes a charming smile and casually checks it.  
“Ah, seems another task requires my attention. We should continue this later on.”

Only mild dissatisfaction is visible on Cytharat’s features, which he quickly discards.  
“Of course. I will be here.”

Lakorev winks at him and then coolly strolls away, wandering through the gravity hook’s halls while occasionally nodding or greeting some of the imperial personnel that are stationed here. He may be Sith, but he takes a relaxed stance on how to treat soldiers.  
It’s far from just humans and purebloods here, as evidenced by himself, Zal’riva and Nadrin. Cathar, togruta, nautolans and more – apparently, an influx of alien officers and staff has really been flourishing in their ranks. It’s reasonable to presume that Darth Imperius and Wrath are behind the core of it. Not to say that they aren’t facing adversity, but it’s a start.

The apprentice enters one of the rooms along the farthest layer of the orbital station, a storage area that is presently unused and seems completely abandoned on his arrival, but only temporarily.  
“Having a lot of fun, I see”, he hears a voice speaking from the shadows. It is pronounced very accurately in cheunh, the most widespread chiss native tongue.

Lakorev steers his gaze towards the woman in a slick white and grey armor, her expression unfazed and her voice as cool and distinctly monotone as ever, even with this poignant comment.  
He bows his head in deference and then swaps to the same language.  
“Director. Only performing my assigned task, to blend in.”

“With keen satisfaction too.”

He corrects his stance and shrugs casually.  
“I like my job.”

She slightly shakes her head and folds her arms.  
“I do not blame you for enacting optimal discretional maneuvers, but you should be wary enough as to not lose focus of your goals.”

“Trust me, Director, I won’t.”

“We shall see.”

Lakorev is generally fairly adept at physically masking his emotions, though not quite with the same mastery as his leader. The way his nose twitches now is one such defective sign. He’s torn.  
“Are you discontent with my performance?”

“No, I am not. I merely wished to debrief you in person.”

This confuses him somewhat and he tilts his head.  
“Really? Did you not receive my last report?”

“I did, but I hoped we could discuss some of the relevant details while I’m here.”

That’s another factor he ought to inquire about. He was confused to see her enter the team to begin with, and she has yet to relay why. Is that going to change?  
“Well, as you ordered and arranged, I’ve done my hardest to observe and investigate the Emperor’s Wrath as much as I can.  
So far, I’ve been able to assess that the rumors of her strength are not exaggerated, both physically and mentally. She’s a very qualified Sith and fighter. One might even deem her to be unstoppably dangerous in that field. However, she does not have a power base in the traditional sense, but instead extends her reach via contacts and friends, particularly with other Sith and flexible agents.”

Nevasc shifts away, beginning to pace across the area where she was standing.  
“I’m already aware of Cipher Nine.”

“Naturally. The grim, daunting intimidation which Lord Wrath exudes is merely a façade, hiding a much friendlier and sociable woman beneath, with an abundance of empathy and benevolence. She is definitely unusual for a Sith, one that might under normal circumstances be shunned as an abomination or Jedi infiltrator. Due to their rapidly mounting crises and hardships, the Empire cannot shed itself of her and likely never will. She will become too ingrained in the core of the system.”

“But you wouldn’t distinguish her as an enemy of the Empire.”

“Not at all. I have been able to discern that she does indeed care for her home, in a way, but desires its evolution. She has an impressively comprehensive plan, which she hopes to excel with.  
As she’s not human nor pureblood, she obviously has aspirations to improve the lives of other species and will go to great lengths to make sure it is achieved.”

Nevasc nods, but it’s hard to tell if this is out of approval or aggravation.  
“You indicated that her view of the Emperor is flawed.”

“Well, at least not positive. Though she serves as his embodied Wrath, she seems to have little loyalty or care for him. She hasn’t outright stated this fact, but I suspect she may attempt to strike him down herself, should the opportunity arise.  
If I’m allowed to express my opinion…”, he says and then proceeds as his superior inclines her head. “I think this act would ultimately be beneficial for the Ascendancy, to improve our standing with the Empire, as our ally and weapon.”

“Agreed. If the moment manifests, you have my permission to assist her with this project.”

“Thank you, Director.”

Silence instills the room for a couple of seconds, as the older chiss contemplates other elements of the files he sent.  
“The chiss Jedi you described.”

“Ktila.”

“Yes. Have you spoken to her?”

He takes a deep breath and dips his head in acknowledgement.  
“I have, and it does indeed seem like their relationship is close, very close. They are more than just lovers, as they are intrinsically linked through a Force bond.”

“Do you believe that the Emperor’s Wrath is somehow connected to other aspects of the Jedi Order?”

“As far as I have observed, that’s not the case. She was never captivated with the Jedi. She and Ktila merely shared interests and emotions.”  
For a moment, he wavers, conflicted whether he should voice this question or not.  
“Should I act towards Ktila in any way? Approach her, perhaps?”

Nevasc is exceedingly swift to dismiss the idea.  
“No, that will not be necessary. She is not of any great concern at this time.”

“But…we are family, sir.”

The Director’s stare grows stricter.  
“Distantly. And what did I tell you about getting distracted? The time will come, but we must not rush it. We may extend an invitation to her at a later date.”

Lakorev’s response is tentative.  
“I wonder whether that is feasible. Ktila doesn’t really care much for the Ascendancy. She holds the belief that other members of our people murdered her parents.”

This doesn’t exactly surprise Nevasc, but the chiss does raise her brow skeptically.  
“That is not true.”

“But she believes it is. And we haven’t provided her with any other proof.”

It is apparently troubling to Nevasc to know that a wayward member of their people lingers with a faulty understanding of the truth. She thoughtfully runs a hand over her chin as she evaluates the alternatives.  
“Alright, I will…consider your request. Perhaps we can act sooner than initially planned.”

He bows briefly once more.  
“Thank you, Director.”

“Let’s move on. The Revanites – have you uncovered any connection between them and Wrath?”

He crosses his arms and searches his memories thoroughly, but with few results.  
“The name of Revan has not been a topic of discussion at any point, and the organization does not seem to be one that she is overtly affiliated with. But, if she truly is a member, she would keep that hidden. I will continue to investigate the matter, even if I’m skeptical of the necessity. She’s not the type, despite her personality.”

“But it is imperative nonetheless. The disposition she reflects presents a possibility that we can’t ignore.”

He raises his arms in a shrug.  
“As you command. I will try to be discreet.”  
After he confirms her order, she goes quiet again, presumably combing the reports locked in her mind. He knows that her body is teeming with cybernetic implants, potentially in her brain as well. Now might be a good time to inquire a little on his own.  
“Director, if I may. Do our superiors know you’re here?”

She stops and turns a stringent look right towards his eyes.  
“Those who need to be aware have been informed.” He opens his mouth, but she impedes his progress by holding up a hand.  
“Before you ask – no, I’m not here purely to watch you. Isotope-5 is of interest to the Ascendancy. I aim to acquire a sample.”

“Hmm. Very well. Do you require my assistance?”

“No, I will succeed on my own. For now, we are done. I don’t believe there will be any more personal debriefings, barring unfortunate conditions. Maintain your previous arrangements.”

He bends his body even further now, proving his reverence, as by protocol.  
“I shall obey.”

Once he spins around and commences his exit, she calls out for him one last time.  
“Be careful with the pureblood. Fraternizing in this fashion during a mission can be diverting. And hazardous.”

His lips curl into a faint smirk as he throws a glance over his shoulder.  
“Speaking from experience, Director?”

Nevasc furrows her brow into a most displeased scowl. Seems he hit a nerve.  
“Get back to your station.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You didn't really think Lakorev was left outside of chiss society, did you? He was an agent all along!_


	57. Fate of strife

Valcera’s office in the Imperial Citadel can often fluctuate with a variety of emotions, depending on circumstances, denizens and the state of its owner. The Dark Councilor has faced several pivotal moments in her career so far in or close to this very room and she has no doubts that more are yet to come, in this turmoil which encapsulates her home.  
Today, however, a source of external hatred echoes in her chambers. Val, Francine and Lana are all sitting on the sofa, watching the hologram of an outraged fair-skinned human with pale blonde hair, likely in his 30s or 40s, shouting in a manner which alludes to the fact that he’s presumably standing on a stage.

“She speaks of rights, of privilege. What of our rights, huh?! What of our _heritage?_ She is stripping us of everything we are, everything that the Empire stands for! She is attempting to tear down generations of history and tradition in one fell swoop, scheming in the shadow of the war, as if we wouldn’t notice! She is using us all and we shouldn’t stand for it!  
Darth Imperius styles herself as the ‘Queen of Dromund Kaas’, but she is nothing more than a charlatan, a tasteless hack, a façade erected by the ingrates who can’t stop demanding! They’ve already begun stealing our positions and resources. How long until they take our homes, our possessions, our families, our very dignity?! Don’t look so preposterously surprised, it’s already happening!”

He halts for a moment to step back and spread his arms in the air. There can be no doubt that he’s talented at what he does, particularly with the volume and intensity of his voice.  
“This isn’t the Empire that we grew up with, the Empire which our forefathers gave their lives to. This isn’t the Empire that our beloved Emperor crafted when he saved us from annihilation by the cold-blooded Jedi scum! The Dark Council knows this, but none of them dare act against her. She’s toying with them, corralling them into a path which leads to degradation and devastation!”

He ceases yet again and gathers himself. They hear how voices in the background, potentially the audience, have begun to make some commotion, though they can’t be seen. The trio briefly wonders if he is on the verge of toning the rhetoric down, but such beliefs are folly.  
“We have to stop this madness now, before it gets too far, too uncontrollable! This is a warning for the Dark Council, for every member that would simply kowtow to Imperius’ autocratic ways – we will rise and strike you down, each and every one of you cravens!  
Bring back the Empire that we were promised, the Empire that our master envisioned! Discard the false leaders or the people will ascend to throw you down instead!”

A surge of cheering is heard among the crowd, though if it’s embellished or not is difficult to tell. At any rate, the vid ends here, and the room plunges into silence once more, except for the whirring of the terminal itself.  
The two human ladies aim their turbulent gazes towards Val, to see the mirialan’s reaction. She merely runs a finger over her lips, with a pensive frown adorning her brow.

Eventually, Fran clears her throat, hoping to push the silence aside.  
“His name is Layton Sparigle, previously a member of the Ministry of Logistics and an entrepreneur. This is uh, simply the first of his messages, my lord. It appears he has more, and his followers are steadily increasing.”

Val snorts and disappointedly shakes her head.  
“I have heard as much. Damn them to the void. They’re all so blinded by pride and arrogance. Have you listened to some of their other nonsense? Some believe that my ‘sweeping decisions’ have been too hasty. But they’re wrong. If they just opened their eyes, they’d see I’m trying to create a better and more unified Empire.”

“I believe some have a disparate view of what constitutes as ‘better’, dear”, Lana infers. “To them, an alien rising to prominence from nowhere and trying to transition everything so quickly likely seems foolish and ungrateful.”

The Councilor exhales sharply and rises in frustration. Soon, she paces over the floor.  
“It makes no sense! Do they know nothing of history? In times of great need and chaos, the Empire has changed before. It is precisely what Vitiate did as well. He beckoned for people to willingly follow him into the shadows, to hide from their greatest enemy. He set himself up as a godlike figure, dissimilar from what they had previously. He founded the Dark Council to act as the institution which would execute his will, almost like mortal representatives of a higher being. He reconstructed history, lore and the principles of the Sith Order, all to suit his needs.”  
She stops for a moment to consider what she has said. Perhaps it’s preferable to make an addendum.  
“…I’m not comparing myself to him, of course, but to prove that this is not the first time in history that the Empire has had to evolve.”

“I know, Val. I’m not disputing you, they are.”

Fran lifts up her datapad from a nearby table and checks her notes.  
“Do you wish to act or issue a statement of some kind, in light of what has occurred?”

Val strokes her chin.  
“Hmm. I will consider the latter, but for now, I believe it’s best to take a wait and see approach.”

Lana folds her arms and stares at her girlfriend skeptically.  
“Are you sure? I have to question the validity of that idea. If you simply dawdle, this will be more than mere buzz. They will increase in numbers and strength. Eventually, we may have a rebellion on our hands. Similar repercussions have emerged before. They need to be quelled _now;_ swiftly and efficiently.”

It sounds like the advisor has already made up her mind, but Val doesn’t quite share her fervor.  
“I agree, to a certain extent, but I also don’t wish to be viewed as a despot that crushes all opposition. In that case, I will be no better than my merciless rivals. No better than these people”, she says and indicates the holoprojector, though it’s currently deactivated.

A faint frown soon forms on Lana’s brow.  
“And if you do nothing at all, you will be seen as weak and impotent. You’re in the Empire, remember? Even many non-Sith value power over benevolence. Well, among humans, anyway.”

Not an incorrect statement as such, but Val still looks dissatisfied with this response, though she knows Lana has a point. She sometimes forgets that Lana tends to have a slightly more Sith-y view than her.  
“Fine, I’ll…think about it.”

Before they can extend the debate of this concern, her own pad emits a small light, to show that a text message has been received. She grabs it and opens her mail, seeing that it’s from Bejarah.  
_“Speed lunch? Outside. Backdoor. -B”_

To most, it’d have a pretty innocent and unassuming visage, but Val knows the true intent. She questions if something is amiss, but knows she can draw no conclusions for now. It has to be asked in person.  
“We shall have to postpone this discussion. I have to deal with an errand.”

Lana stands up and moves towards her, taking Val’s hand.  
“Wherever you go, be careful. I don’t want a repeat of last year, alright?”

Val rolls her eyes, though she doesn’t disapprove of the concern. Instead, she puts her hands on Lana’s cheeks and pulls the human in, keenly wrapping her lips around her girlfriend’s. She detects how Lana’s hands encircle her waist, embracing her tenderly. Few places are safer for her than this woman’s arms.  
“You worry too much”, she whispers afterwards.

“Feels like my second job.”

“Maybe you should quit.”

“And let you watch over yourself? Lunacy.”

Val emits a huffed chuckle and playfully nibbles at Lana’s nose, before she manages to disentangle herself and glance at Fran.  
“Francine, my dear, can you start writing a speech to counter mister Sparigle? I’ll review it later.”

Fran bows her head slightly.  
“Of course, my lord. What emotion should I pursue?”

“Something marginally stern, but still compassionate.”

“Like a scolding mother”, Lana jokes.

Val squints at her girlfriend and pokes her nose.  
“Don’t tease me.”  
Once she exits the office, she spots Khem nearby, overseeing the department’s security as always, but when she leaves, he begins to follow. She permits it, but only until they reach the lower chambers. As they step out of the elevator, with less guards, she turns to face him.  
“Stay here, Khem. I have to do this alone.”  
  
The dashade does not look pleased with that order at all. She almost fears that he’s about to disobey her.  
“I should go with you”, he states in his tongue. “You need protection.”

She sighs, knowing that everyone else is well aware how much she detests being coddled.  
“I appreciate your vigilance, but I don’t _need_ it. This isn’t for you, dear. Please, don’t pursue me any further than this. I’ll be fine.”

He begrudgingly complies and returns to his station. For now. Better make sure that he doesn’t secretly stalk her. He can be more cunning than people give him credit for.  
As she reaches the landing platform in the back of the building, along a ledge at the chasm where the Citadel is located, she spots how a glistening azure blue airspeeder is already waiting. Once she approaches, she finds none other than her rattataki friend sitting in the front seat, wearing a sangria-colored leather jacket and pants, with black shades covering her eyes.

“Get in.”

No one orders a Councilor around in such a brazen fashion, but she yields to the request and rather handily slides into the vehicle. Shortly after, the two of them speed away, cruising at the top of the city’s airborne layers, but without any specific destination. This isn’t a trip that contains an end goal per se, nor any food.  
Bejarah is silent at first, a little too obscured. After a few uneasy moments, she removes the shades, hangs them on her collar and speaks.

“How’s it going?”, she inquires succinctly. “Haven’t seen you much lately.”

Val stares curiously at her friend, wondering what’s running through her mind. She can definitely detect the tension, but Beja knows how to adapt and throw off Sith tricks. Part of being a member of a secret Order.  
“I won’t lie – my life has been profoundly hectic as of late. You can’t begin to fathom how grueling it can be. My tasks are escalating in tandem with the war’s progress and I feel as if they’re becoming unsurmountable.”

Beja snorts, but only in mild amusement.  
“Giving up?”

“You know I won’t. I will persevere regardless.” She glances at her friend and crosses her arms. “And you?”

The merc merely shrugs at first, keeping her hand on the controls and her eyes fixated at the rather sparse traffic.  
“Eh, I dunno. Decent, I guess.”

The mirialan tilts her head, feeling a smidgen of worry materializing.  
“Is something wrong between you and Ashara?”

“What? Oh. No, nothing like that. Ash and I are fine. She loves me.”

“Hmph. I hope you return this vehemently.”

“Don’t be a jackass. You know I adore her. Ash is the best.”  
She bites at her lip and frowns a little, her apprehension amplifying. It seems like being forced to tackle the matter isn’t as easy as she may have hoped.  
“It’s about the Order. Have you received any new messages lately?”

Val arches her brow in faint confusion.  
“What? Well, yes, of course. Not as frequently, but the correspondence is there.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for the most part, I report in with progress and they send back either suggestions or affirmations that I should proceed.”

A sigh slips out of Beja’s lips.  
“Yeah, same here. It’s getting me worried. There’s like, extremely little exchange or overhauls nowadays. Seems weird to me.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? It’s war, the Empire is in a fluctuating and malleable condition. It’s ripe for a bit of fine-tuning. Isn’t now the exact time when we should be striking our hardest at the fundamental essence of what this nation is?”

Not a fallacy per se, but Val takes a little bit of umbrage at it.  
“I could argue that this is precisely what I’m doing. Or are my actions inadequate to you?”

Beja falls into a mixture of annoyance and reluctance as she gestures dismissively.  
“Oh, c’mon, that’s not what I meant. What about the rest? Seriously, I haven’t seen any of ‘em doing much at all. It’s only you and me out here.”

“Well, that is our typical process, to act from the shadows. And it’s not like we’ve ever been cognizant of every single operation that occurs simultaneously. Only the master knows that.”

“Meh, I guess. I just feel outta the loop, y’know?  
Did you hear that they were supposed to change base recently? I mean, sure, that’s done periodically, but when I asked to get the scoop, you know what they said? ‘Due to your present precarious situation, its location will have to remain shrouded for now. We will get back when your assignment alters’. Just like that.”

Val ponders the implications and scratches her nose.  
“Hmm. That is a tad peculiar."

“…peculiar?!”, Beja asks, now divulging her livid state. “It’s fucked up, Val! They’re not allowing their own stars-damned members to know the details anymore. That’s not how this shit is supposed to work!”

The mirialan exhales from her nose, thinking Beja is jumping to conclusions.  
“Calm yourself. This isn’t the first time such a thing has occurred. In fact, others have experienced the same.”

“Oh, whatever. I can remember basic fucking events, okay? But this shit is dumb. We’re the core of the Order. Shouldn’t we at least get a clue?”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up over this. It’s not that suspicious.”

Beja lifts her arms briefly, baffled by Val’s lack of distress.  
“It is! This shouldn’t happen to us.”

Val turns to stare at her friend, getting a little leery.  
“I thought hubris was a Sith cliché. We’re not the most vital components of the Order, Bejarah. We’re members like everyone else. And we still have our contact networks, don’t we?”

But the rattaki has already advanced her presumptions and the conspiracy that festers in her mind.  
“You think they’ve been discovered? Maybe our enemies are finally trying to wipe us out.”

Okay, she’s truly becoming paranoid now. Val buries her eyes in the palm of her hand.  
“Darling, please. Do you know how implausible that is? We’ve survived for decades. If that were the case, wouldn’t hunters be coming for us or someone attempting to reveal my affiliations in a public setting? Or we’d at least be receiving messages from the others, urging us to flee. There has been no warning.”

Beja’s racing suspicions waver, but only marginally.  
“Yeah…yeah, maybe. I just don’t trust the silence. This…doesn’t feel right. We should do something about it.”

“Do what?”

“I dunno, get in contact with people, ask around. Ensure this is just me and not a real thing.”

Val shuts her eyes, sighs and leans her head back against her seat. A headache begins to infect her mind. She really doesn’t need this insecurity too.  
“Look, I see your point, but I have a lot on my plate right now. Dromund Kaas is in shambles and occupies practically every waking hour.”

Beja raises her brow perplexedly. She’s not merely disappointed, but bemused by such a complaint.  
“Sorry what? You’re gonna disregard your true loyalties, when we’re in trouble?”

“Are we? Obviously, I’d never ignore an actual palpable threat if it existed, but do you have proof of any misconduct?  
And do you expect me to transfer and expend all my efforts to track down the new base simply due to a hunch? How deluded is that?”

The merc is severely displeased with such fierce aversion to her doubts and she scowls as she veers away, gazing out the window.  
“Whatever”, she mutters.

As Val observes her friend, sensing the hurt feelings through the Force, guilt materializes within her. Why does she have to embrace empathy all the damn time? She lifts a hand to gently caress Beja’s shoulder.  
“Bejarah…look, I understand where your worries derive from, but you should relax. Not everything has to be a cataclysmic disaster, merely because they’re being cautious.  
I’ll send a few messages, see if I can get ahold of someone. Does that sound better?”

Sadly, the rattataki just shrugs.  
“Not sure. Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

Sounds like she’s getting grumpy by now. Val slides her arms around her friend’s waist and leans over to rest her chin on Beja’s shoulder instead.  
“Don’t pout”, she suggests softly. “Hey, why don’t we try to do something fun? It has been a little while since we had a date between the four of us, right? We should do it again.”

Now it’s Beja who rolls her eyes, as she moves a cursory glance towards the Sith.  
“That’s a distraction.”

“It is, but a pleasant one. Come now, I know you enjoy it.”

It’s a tad aggravating and ridiculous, but Beja does succumb to the idea.  
“Bah. Fine, but only if I get to pick the spot.”

“Hmm. I might allow it. Nothing unbecoming, though.”

Beja’s mood moderately improves, as evidenced by her nudging a shoulder into Val.  
“Shut up. I have better taste than you.”

“Tsk. That’s slander.”


	58. Mentor fallacy

The hunt for a path to Darth Decimus’ destruction is still underway, but the road to achieve the goal is abstract, laden with a variety of obstacles.  
For now, the team is situated near Alvirrad, attempting to disguise their presence by utilizing one of the two moons that float in orbit, while they perfect their preparations. So far, they have managed to procure a shuttle which they will ride down to the planet’s surface with, but a few contingencies remain that they have to handle prior to making a move.

During this process, Jaesa’s main duty on board the Shielded Path has been to search the Force for nearby entities of note, which isn’t a seamless task due to how incredibly numerous they are, but if anyone can accomplish this task, it’s her.  
That said, she has a tendency to get a little distracted from time to time, with the target of her focus being Ayzera. She still wishes to assist her apprentice, who is also struggling to ready herself up for the inevitable confrontation.

At this time, Ayzera is sitting on the floor of the cabin she’s been lent, attempting to center herself and test her mental defenses, so that she’s appropriately geared for when they must mask their presences from enemy Sith that are presumably keeping their minds open.  
Her aptitude with the Force is quite impressive, gleaned through the many objects that she manages to telekinetically suspend in the air while she stretches her limits.

However, because of these heightened senses, she also detects the nearby aura watching her. As she lowers her hands, allowing all the objects to descend, she turns to the doorway where Jaesa is standing. The Sith Lord waves and smiles a bit sheepishly.  
“Can I assist you, master?”, Ayzera inquiries.

Jaesa blinks confusedly and then clears her throat.  
“What? Oh, no, I was just-…I wanted to check in on you. See if you need anything from me.”

Ayzera places her hands together in her lap and slowly shakes her head.  
“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You know you can always ask me anything.”

“Yes, I am quite certain. I thank you for the offer, but I’m not helpless.”

These words make Jaesa widen her eyes, as she suddenly recognizes how the request might have been perceived.  
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to imply that-…” She exhales and shrugs. “Sorry. I’ll get out of your way.”

After this botched attempt at being professional, she briefly considers going to Vette and just snuggling down into her girlfriend’s comforting arms, but thinks better of it. Sure, it’s tempting, nigh irresistible, but that won’t solve her ambivalence.  
Instead, she goes looking for the one person that might be able to help her with this dilemma – Ktila. The chiss has always shown to be a wise, benevolent and clever master. Perhaps she has some astute advice.

She locates the Jedi inside her own cabin, of course, currently sitting on a sofa in front of a table mixed with a holoprojector. Several shimmering hologram floats around above the surface – Satele Shan, Orgus Din and someone that Jaesa can only presume represents the Green Jedi, are some of those that Ktila studies. Not wanting to produce more embarrassment, Jaesa actually coughs this time, to grab her friend’s attention.

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?”

Ktila shifts her eyes towards the doorway, flashes a small smile and waves the human in.  
“Not at all. I was just reading up on some old Jedi activities and philosophy.”

Jaesa mirrors her expression and moves to take her own seat on the furniture. These quarters are marginally more austere than Zal’riva’s cabin on the Tempest, but it seems she’s trying to alter this notion, by implementing various plants and holographic gear.  
“Oh? Anything in particular?”

“Well, it’s…” Ktila slowly inhales through her nose and leans back in her seat, running a hand into her loosely held hair.  
“Actually, I feel kinda stupid, but I’m…well, I guess attempting to discover some guidance. There’s been a lot on my mind lately, primarily due to all we’ve been embroiled in.  
I keep thinking ‘am I doing the right thing by helping the Empire? Should I get back on the previous road, where I’m meant to be? What can I do to boost my search?’ and similar nonsense. Rummaging through Jedi sayings and maxims can be…comforting. Although, I bet some would dismiss them as ‘platitudes’.”

Now being on the couch, she folds her arms and relinquishes a wistful smile.  
“I know what you mean. Don’t be surprised when I say that I understand your predicament perfectly. And it’s not just my experiences, but because I had something similar in mind. I’m also looking for some guidance.”

Ktila gradually turns towards the other woman and arches her brow, feeling increasingly intrigued.  
“Oh? Of what kind?”

“Well, as you know, I have recently received my first apprentice and I have a lot of…questions and worries swirling through my head. I’d appreciate some consultation.”

The chiss stares at her with an modicum of surprise, intermingled with amusement, until she chuckles lightly.  
“From a former Jedi? Not everyone would see that as the smartest option.”

“Well, my case may be a little different. Let me remind you that I’m also an ex-member of the Order and I have not yet lost the fundamental principles of what I learned there. I have only transformed them with the lessons that Zal’riva gave me.  
Plus, if there’s anyone I trust to provide me with a fair and reasonable opinion, it’s you. Well, you and Zal’riva, of course. You are two of the most enlightened women I know.”

“What about Vette and Kira?”

“Oh, yes, obviously! I thought that was self-evident.”

Ktila snorts and runs a hand along her own cheek, briefly digesting this thought.  
“While I appreciate the sentiment, I doubt I’m the most fitting choice for this. Not only do I hail from the Green Jedi, perhaps the foremost contrarian subsection of the Order, but I’ve always been a bit…capricious.  
Also, don’t forget that I only had a master for a short time back on Tython and the main wing of the Order, and once I received a student for myself, it wasn’t exactly a ‘proper’ padawan. Kira and I only partially treated each other that way.”

Jaesa’s face grows solemn and temporarily introspective as she listens, but doesn’t descend into disappointment.  
“Well, this may be true, but I actually consider it an advantage. It gives you a unique perspective, one that no one else can provide. At least no one I’m close to.”

It’s undeniable that Ktila is still hesitant to concede to such an argument, but recognizes that this feeling might originate from a fear that she’ll lead Jaesa or her apprentice astray.  
“Okay, if you’re determined, I suppose it would be wrong of me to deprive you of the answers”, she finally agrees. “What’s bothering you, then?”

Taking a deep breath, Jaesa slips some of her hair behind an ear and bends her legs, leaving them on the sofa.  
“I’m having a few…personal issues with Ayzera.”

“Is there something wrong with her?”

“Huh? Oh, no! I meant on my end, not hers. She’s great, amazing even. It’s quite the opposite – I feel as if I may not be the most suitable candidate as a mentor.  
I mean, I’m still pondering the rudimentary principles in this endeavor – what path should I take and lead her down? Should I let her follow my route, into a grey, unruly and dissenting haze? Or should I instead let her be free, be less constrictive and permit her to do whatever she desires?”

Both choices, while taking one side each, are definitely broad. Grey, in and of itself, is not a clear-cut and unambiguous concept, and the options outside of it are even less indeterminate.  
“Hmm. Well, you are her master, her mentor”, Ktila remarks. “Whether you like it or not, it is sort of the duty and obligation of such a rank to direct Ayzera along a trial either way. Only you can decide how coordinated it should be.”

“Yes, sure, but that’s not what I’m trying to contest or suggest. Instead, I’m…well, I suppose I’m attempting to highlight the fact that I can be viewed as a special Sith, a kind of deviation. What if I, because of my opinions and beliefs, begin to lead her towards a perilous destination? We’re fighting to evolve the Empire, but how long will this take? Should I harden Ayzera, so that she’s ready for the potential setbacks or is that my paranoia playing tricks on me?”

Not at all an unwise angle. In fact, Ktila would probably recommend a healthy dose of paranoia in all such ventures.  
“An interesting and astute notion, but if memory serves – and correct me if I’m wrong – didn’t you mention that Ayzera is already from a family that differs from the majority of Sith society?”

“Yes, she is. They have their own traditions, their specific viewpoints and a long history. But this only makes me more concerned. What if my actions will fail not just her, but her family too?”  
She sighs heavily and buries her face in her hands.  
“It’s still incomprehensible why she chose me begin with. Why not seek out a talented Sith from her own family?”

Ktila studies her friend, sensing the distress not just from the features and words, but the aura. To help soothe her ailing, the chiss plants a hand on Jaesa’s back and caresses it softly.  
“This is merely conjecture, but Ayzera is likely well aware of what it’s like to be different”, Ktila infers. “Not just as a Sith, but because she has lived as an alien in a human-centric society. She presumably wanted a new perspective from an outsider that has seen and experienced modern Jedi teachings, yet abandoned the Order. Why else would she pick you?”

Jaesa lowers her hands and ruminates on the subject, though she can’t really find a plausible measure to refute the position.  
“Possibly, but I don’t know if it’s adequate. It’s been, what, a year at most since I was promoted? Even less since I chose my new Sphere. I still feel so…fresh, like I haven’t assembled the proper courage, confidence, determination and vigilance required to lead someone through this quagmire.”

Her doubts actually make Ktila smile even further and playfully bump her shoulder into Jaesa’s.  
“Well, that shouldn’t be an issue, right? Unless I’m mistaken, Zal was barely above the rank of an apprentice when she took a certain lost padawan into her fold.”

The human glances at Ktila with an awkward look on her face. She makes a very pertinent point.  
“Yes, but…”

Ktila raises her hand to instead stroke it over Jaesa’s soft hair, in smooth and tender motions.  
“You should have some confidence in yourself, Jaesa. Just look back at all you’ve accomplished, all the struggles you’ve endured and the successes you’ve performed to get here. You can do this, which you’ve proven time and time again.”

Jaesa is a little torn, biting at her lower lip, but the praise and encouragement is both satisfying and potent, to know that someone believes she’s doing the right thing.  
“You point at some obvious angles I should’ve realized on my own.” She breathes out through her nose. “See? This is why I came to you. You constantly know what to say, Ktila.”

Ktila’s face brightens and she affectionately squeezes the Sith’s shoulder.  
“Neither Zal nor I are your masters anymore, but we’ll always be your friends, Jaesa. If you ever need advice or help, you can ask, and we will answer, just like we hope you’d do the same for us. That’s what friends are for.”

Replicating Ktila’s feelings, Jaesa slides her arms around the Jedi and embraces her eagerly.  
“I’m glad we’re doing this mission together. If you need a reason to be here, there you have it.”

This makes Ktila giggle, as she ardently returns the gesture.  
"Hah! To you see you smile, huh? I guess I’ll take it.”


	59. The children's freehold

The mission on Makeb, led by the Emperor’s Wrath and Cipher Nine, to wrest the planet’s resources from the control of the hutts - preferably through subtle means - is progressing, but at a fairly slow pace. It isn’t the conquest which happens to be the difficult part, but the scientific evaluation of how exactly to rescue the entire world from inevitable collapse, due to hutt avarice. It is a daunting task and from certain angles, nearly impossible. Nevertheless, they persevere.

One of the foremost obstacles so far was the news that the Republic has arrived on the planet. Some scouts had spotted them in another settlement, several miles to the northwest, during a recon assignment.  
The imperial crew isn’t particularly surprised that their perpetual rivals would come here, though it’s still hard to say what they’re after. Do they covet the isotope-5 as well? If so, how did they find out about it in the first place? Could be the SIS that are the culprits here.

At any rate, the team itself has currently been attempting to settle down and regain some kind of stability, making sure that their positions on this world are secure.  
In between these smaller missions, some of the group try to stay sharp by exercising, both mentally and physically. Baeleki and Kira are certainly in this category, who stay among themselves, as they tend to feel a little uneasy around so many imperials.

That said, they have gotten along splendidly with both Zal’riva and her new apprentice. To be honest, Kira still views the brash chiss as a bit of a nuisance, but she can deal with his attitude. He’s kinda fun, in a way.  
For the most part, Kira has allowed him to assist them with training saber-related measures, as that appears to be his most noteworthy talent, but they decided to switch gear today. They’re performing a different set of workouts, focusing on Force-fueled abilities.

Lakorev is attempting to test and push the limits of Baeleki’s reflexes, utilizing various telekinetic maneuvers and objects, to see how she can dodge and deflect.  
This is the sight that Zal stumbles into as she enters this side room in the orbital station. She had been patrolling the vicinity, in order to inspect her subordinates’ performance and prove that she is a thorough commander, when she heard an array of racket exuded from this section.

Kira can be found next to one of the walls, overseeing the exchange from the sidelines. She doesn’t stay completely static, nor silent, however. Just as Zal steps into the area, she hears the human’s voice.  
“Stand your ground, Baeleki and stop retreating”, she lectures. “Don’t let him run all over you. Shouldn’t be afraid to take risks every now and then. Bit of confidence and fortitude pays off.”

The togruta inhales deeply and nods curtly.  
“Alright, I…I’ll try.”

As the workout resumes, Zal emits a small snort on her approach, her lekku coiling amusedly as she glances at the Jedi Knight.  
“Ever the watchful guardian, hmm?”

Kira sports a light smile and shrugs.  
“You know it.”

“So, what is this I’m seeing? Seems like you’ve let them branch out since their last sparring session.”

“Yup, pretty much. I was gonna handle this myself, but I don’t want her to have to rely solely on me. Narrows her scope too much.”

Zal soon emulates Kira’s expression and playfully nudges her elbow into the human’s shoulder.  
“Admitting your own limitations, hmm?”

“Tsk. As if”, she says and nudges right back with the same attitude. “It’s just that, y’know…I mean, I enjoy hanging out with her and the idea of being the allegedly ‘wise master’, but I know it’ll restrict her potential too much and leave her in an overly comfortable position. We both know battle is never easy or static, so she has to face new foes.”  
She directs her eyes to the clash in the center, observing as her padawan does her utmost to not be overwhelmed.  
“I wasn’t gonna entrust your student here with anything outside holding a lightsaber, but then once I thought about getting someone with a different toolset, for contrast with my own abilities, he seemed like a perfect fit.”

Zal nods and folds her arms.  
“Smart move. Lakorev may be my apprentice, but he’s fairly autonomous and knew what he was doing with the Force long before I took him in. He and I are partners more than anything, resembling my previous connection with Jaesa. The only reason he’s deemed as my apprentice is so that I can guide him into the higher echelon’s of power in the Empire, in an adequate manner.”

From this distance, they note how Baeleki furrows her brow, rapidly parries three projectiles that fly at her and then alters her approach to leap into Lakorev, driving him backwards, forcing the chiss to retreat. This event makes Kira smirk.  
“Well, looks like my student is catching up. Better watch out, or she’ll get him one day.”

The twi’lek arches her brow at first, but soon realizes the jesting nature of it, making her chuckle.  
“If you think he’s straining himself, you haven’t seen anything yet, Carsen.”

“Yeah, yeah, just playin', Vivees.”  
She mischievously pokes Zal’s abdomen, trying to tickle her a little, though it’s only partially effective. Afterwards, a modicum of solemnity resurges in her.  
“Actually, that makes me think. This is your second apprentice now, right? Got any tips for an up and coming star teacher?”

Zal rolls her eyes.  
“…you are humility embodied, Kira", she states dryly.

“I’m ambitious!”

At least she makes the Sith snicker, a constant reminder that she enjoys Kira’s company. She’s fun, quite like Vette and no matter how much she denies it, the demeanors of both her and Lakorev are very alike.  
“Well, in the end, I suppose it depends on your line of inquiry. Sure, I can help you if you so desire, but I am not the most experienced of all. And I am no Jedi.”

“Eh, true, I guess. Don’t think that matters all too much in this instance. You don’t mind if I ask though, do you?”

“Not in the slightest. By all means, go ahead.”

Kira takes a deep breath and places her hands on her hips, while she maintains her focus on the students’ progress.  
“Well, I guess the number one topic on my mind right now is strictness. Got any opinion on that?  
Personally, I kinda don’t wanna push her too hard. Not after all she’s been through.”

Zal nods slowly, giving herself a few moments to ponder the matter and properly mold an appropriate response.  
“I obviously cannot speak for someone like your padawan, nor Jedi in general, but I believe in balance, in all things. An equal distribution of freedom and stringency. I have never been one to pressure Jaesa or Lakorev, especially due to the fact that I was relatively new to the whole idea of being a Sith Lord when I received Jaesa.  
That said, I don’t believe becoming excessively lenient is a wise course of action either. It is still vital that the generation with more knowledge teaches the newer or younger ones, and novices should listen. Balance in the Force, the importance of vigilance and endurance in combat, conveying all possible techniques, tempering boldness with empathy and understanding – all of this has to be taught, imprinted into their minds.  
It is for this reason that I have never endorsed the notion of unregulated freedom to pursue whatever path the student wishes. It is not advisable, for it may lead to slackness and mistakes.”

The human stands and listens to the entire description with keen interest, finding Zal’s perspective to be fascinating. After Zal stops, she snorts pensively.  
“Sounds like Sith schooling isn’t all that dissimilar from the way Jedi train, after all. The Tython Order also adheres to severe and regimented schedules.”

Her assumptions prove incorrect, as Zal shakes her head.  
“Oh, I was not recounting the process of my own education period. I sincerely doubt that Jedi endure the same rigorous drills that we suffer. At least not what I had to grow up with.”

Kira’s expression falters a little, as she retreats into a tad of uncertainty.  
“Y…yeah, maybe not. I picked up some stories before I fled, but never experienced ‘em.”

As there is a pause, Zal soon gets the hint that Kira wants the twi’lek to relay some of her past. Perhaps it would be fair to let her hear at least an abridged version of the truth.  
“I must preface this story by saying that I by no means recommend this style of training. Not fully, anyway, because of how callous and arbitrary it can be. But…” A tentative intake of breath follows, before the explanation ensues.  
“You see, Sith acolytes not only have to endure physical and mental pressure, in order to hone their abilities, but a whole heap of grueling exercises, to test their tenacity, tolerance and boundaries. At times, this would entail being sent on lengthy journeys or onto scavenging hunts for artifacts and items of interest, often merely for the satisfaction and benefit of whatever Sith issued the order. Naturally, these Lords rarely care if the acolytes being dispatched live or die. Personally, I had to delve into deep caverns and ruins, avoid ancient traps or was thrusted into confrontations with monsters, who had torn many unfortunate novices apart.”

With somewhat lowered eyes, Kira lifts a hand and scratches the back of her head.  
“That…doesn’t sound ideal.”

“It is far from everything. We were also urged to form bonds of friendship with the people around us, for the sole purpose of testing the strength of these interactions, by forcing us to fight one another, sometimes to the death, in order to observe how far our mental capacity would extend.”  
The Sith furrows her brow and her hands clench somewhat.  
“I had...problems with maintaining such relationships past the first incidents, prior to my apprenticeship, for I knew what would inevitably occur. Despite my disinterest in brawling with my acquaintances, when pushed, they did not listen. Our overseers demanded blood and they obeyed. But in the end, I always won.”

Not only does Kira look hesitant, but unsettled. She had heard a few tales, but this…well, at least it makes sense why Zal clings to her current friends so vehemently.  
“…fuck. You know what? I take my last statement back. Sure, Jedi lessons can be pretty freaking intense, excruciating even, but this is just…brutal.”

Zal sighs and shuts her eyes.  
“Agreed, which is why I cannot laud or approve of unbridled Sith teachings.  
However, I do believe in the preservation of some aspects. Acceptance of emotions and passions, the advantage of balancing both offense and defense, not adhering too fiercely to ancient conventions etc.”

“Hmm. Dunno if we’re on the same page all the way, but I can see where you’re coming from, if you grew up with it. I’m assuming that Vitiate’s mindset must’ve shaped a lot of these rules and traditions.”

“No doubt, as he did control and dictate the heading for this nation during most of its lifespan. Now that he’s gone, the Empire is caught in a rising upheaval, as you’ve already witnessed.”  
Speaking of the Emperor is not exactly a welcoming or pleasant subject, which is why Zal quickly tries to veer to a slightly different vector.  
“Oh, speaking of such power – what about Baeleki? How is she doing outside of her training? When we arrived up here, she demonstrated quite an eruption for us. Seen any more of them?”

Kira becomes equally sober, but discards the idea.  
“Not so far, but I’m not fully sure where it originated from anyway. I mean, yes, Vitiate, but she has never showed that type of destructive ability in the past. I reckon it probably had something to do with being on death’s door, though. Some kind of latent power triggered and just…exploded.”

It appears Zal is of a similar opinion, inclining her head in acknowledgement.  
“I haven’t detected his presence, thankfully.”

“Me neither. Still, probably for the best to keep our eyes open.”

“Indeed, that would be wise.”

Kira exhales and runs a hand over her hair, pulling some of her bangs back a little and lowers the volume of her voice.  
“Don’t tell her, but…I’m worried. I know exactly how greedy that bastard can be, and he won’t let go easily. I really don’t wanna lose her, but…”

Her confessions end there, as she can’t voice the full truth without feeling incredibly disheartened. She’s falling into a gloomier pit, a dilemma that Zal would prefer to shield her from, as it can lead to debilitating unease. The twi’lek wonders what she can do to alleviate it, as there has to be a solution. When she stares at the clashing between their students, she suddenly gets an idea and strides in that direction.

“Lakorev, Baeleki”, she calls out, “make some room, will you?”

The other duo shifts towards her.  
“Why?”, the chiss inquires.

Zal grabs onto Kira’s shoulder and gently pulls the Jedi with her.  
“How about we try a double team game, hmm?”

Kira blinks perplexedly.  
“Uh, what?”

“They have tested each other’s skills and versatility, but what if we let them see how two masters perform? And, to make it more fun, why don’t we switch sides? I take Baeleki under my wing and you get Lakorev as your partner. See if you can match us.”

They are now right next to the padawan and the apprentice, but Kira still looks at the twi’lek with skeptical eyes.  
“Wait, are you…are you joking?”

Zal’s lips curl a bit playfully.  
“Only if you think you aren’t capable of being a challenge for us. I understand if It seems too daunting for you.”

In response, Lakorev’s lips part into a small grin.  
“You know you will likely regret those words, master.”

Suddenly, Kira’s gaze sharpens, and she snorts.  
“Oh, damn right she will.”

Zal smirks, utilizes the Force to pull another training saber to her hand from one of the walls and then moves to join the togruta’s side.  
“Ready to topple two bursting egos?”

Baeleki clears her throat and displays a shy smile.  
“I-I will try my best, my lord.”

The twi’lek nimbly spins the saber around with her fingers and pats the togruta’s shoulder in a supportive fashion.  
“Don’t worry, I will show you the way.”


	60. In conventions mockery (part 01)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I should preface this little arc by saying that, it is very much tethered to this specific story and not so much the overarching tale that the entire series is telling._   
>  _It deals with, as I've hinted during several parts of the story, the difficulties Val faces in trying to reform the Empire. The old continues to lash out. Violent elements would inevitably crop up and that's what this section is about._   
>  _There is dissent in the Sith Empire even now; a CRACK, if you will_

Valcera has to confess, at least to herself, that no matter how much she espouses the importance of diligence, constantly and proudly pushes her limits, and vehemently claims that the Empire needs her guidance, it is pretty nice to simply get away sometimes. To vanish for a while and forget about the oceans of work that needs to be completed. Lana may not agree with her, as she has stated on numerous occasions just how dangerous that mindset can be, but there’s no convincing Val when she has locked her mind on a goal.

Though, technically, today’s outing can’t exactly be designated as a vacation, nor particularly solitary. Val, Lana, Ashara and Bejarah are all gathered in one place together, as they decided to pursue the double date that the Councilor suggested, in hopes of alleviating the rattataki’s worries regarding the Revanites. That was not the excuse they offered to their girlfriends, but it is the underlying reason.  
As Val does not have an abundance of spare time in her schedule, going to a more verdant or holiday-suitable location was not feasible. This is why they’ve picked a spot on the capital world.

They’re currently visiting Caredence, a city on an entirely separate continent, pretty close to one of Dromund Kaas’ many oceans. This happens to be one of those places which has for a long time housed the greatest number of aliens not locked in compounds, but their ‘freedom’ was obviously extremely limited. Now, in the past few years, things have expedited exponentially, growing into actual palpable liberties. The citizens have of course been most eager to attribute this development to both Imperius' and Wrath’s influences, due to their hard work, success and enthusiasm at changing the legal direction of the Empire. They are the most prominent non-human leaders, after all.

This means that much of the city has gone through several alterations, via infrastructure, assignments, business, housing and more. Previously, it was a settlement with a lot of alien fishing installations, which was of course ruled by humans, but Val has made sure to wrest control from an ample number and handed it to the freed alien slaves, so that they can supervise the procedures and work efforts on their own.

However, none of this has occurred without issues, for nothing in this galaxy can transpire without some complications. Due to the influx of new arrivals, a lot of humans have either moved away or otherwise grown discontent, not wanting to be affiliated. Some have openly opposed rearrangements or even grown violent. The few incidents that cropped up have had to be put down. Until recently, Val had been suspecting that they’d eventually give in, but instead, there are now clear signs of organization happening.

To show her support, capability and to ensure that this place, like many others of the same inclination, shall continue to be protected Val chose to make an official visit. Such endeavors can be fairly taxing, but she declined any meetings with the local government and political debates, instead taking the group of women to an art gallery located in a pretty sizeable entertainment center, filled with old establishments and recent additions. The gallery is in the former category.

As they wander around the regimented paths and walls, they check out various fine paintings, sculptures and holographic devices, as this company promotes a digital flair too. Alien works are gradually being accepted and exhibited in here, though the owner has been rather opposed to the notion. Val hopes her presence might change this viewpoint, to let them know that she is still watching.

Of course, the quartet is not without an escort. Khem had insisted to join them on this trip and brought a security team to assist him. For now, they are stationed along various walls, to not obstruct the view or passage for the other visitors. Val’s orders.  
The four women have discussed having dinner together later on, but at this time, they have remained a little separated.

Ash’s interest in this type of art is lukewarm at best, but she finds some of them quite fascinating. She acknowledges that she may need to learn more of this form of entertainment and this might be a decent opportunity to expand.  
One who is far less intrigued by any of it, is Beja. Compared to Ash’s basil-colored robes, Beja has clothed herself in a daring silver dress, and her focus tends to be on the Sith at all times. While the togruta stands and studies yet another painting, the mercenary finally has enough and decides to employ some sly moves instead. She sneaks up behind Ash, slips her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and presses her lips close to where the aural organs on togruta are.

“Seeing anything of interest, cutie?”

Ash does not flinch for even a moment, likely having sensed Beja’s approach. She simply continues to scour the artwork – a dented imperial logo at the bank of a black sea, with a city aflame in the distance - and rests her hands over her beloved’s.  
“I am not especially well-versed in art history or imperial symbolism, but this is an intriguing display. It’s made by a talented nautolan artist, one of the first pieces to be accepted from a non-human. Apparently, it has been heavily criticized for its implications of human fallacy, but the artist says they’ve misunderstood the full intent.”

Beja snorts briefly.  
“Lemme guess – the critics are human?”

“Well…yes.”

“Big whoop.”

Ash lets a small smile form on her lips and shrugs.  
“It’s interesting, nonetheless.”

“Hmm. A little, I guess. Not my thing, personally. And you? Been thinking about producing something like this on your own?”

The Sith quickly shakes her head.  
“Not really. I am no artist.”

Bejarah’s dark green eyes drift to her lover instead, forgetting their surroundings for a moment and nudges her nose into Ash’s cheek, whispering softly.  
“Not true. You know how to evoke all kinds of sentiments in my heart.”

The smile previously spotted now swells in volume and range. Ash turns her head to better face the other woman.  
“Was that supposed to be charming?”

“Oh c’mon. You liked it.”

“Only slightly.”

“Tried my best.”

“Perhaps you should stick to baking.”

Their gazes soon start to narrow, as does the space between them. Their lips collide in a tender and deep kiss, ignoring all the denizens near them. Eventually, Ash spins, slides her arms around Beja’s shoulders and intensifies the passion-fueled motions. She has grown bolder the more time she has spent around this brash rattataki and it’s finally beginning to show. Naturally, it is not a concept that Beja would ever contest. She embraces it wholeheartedly, even encouraging further boldness by exposing herself.

In the meantime, from afar, Val can’t help but partially watch what occurs between them. This isn’t really an act she should indulge. She and Lana are trying to examine some of the holographic showcases, which the advisor had been particularly keen on analyzing, but Val simply can’t prevent the distraction. After Lana voices her opinions on the contents and potential implications, and doesn’t get a response, she glances at her girlfriend. Val’s fluctuating concentration makes her eyes roll. She grabs the shorter woman’s chin and steers her back in the correct destination.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

Val, being a little bewildered by what just happened, blinks and glances around searchingly, before she clears her throat and desperately attempts to salvage the situation.  
“Uh…sure. Something about…visual fidelity, I think?”

Lana’s next expression can unquestionably be identified as ‘unimpressed’.  
“Val…”

“How close was I?”

“Miles away.”

This was kind of a slipup, wasn’t it? When she solicited this activity, she did so with the guarantee that they’d be spending time together.  
“I’m sorry, Lana”, she says, coated in a sigh. “I’m going to try harder.”

Lana skeptically crosses her arms.  
“I thought you promised to not interfere with their relationship anymore before we left.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…I worry for them.”

“For Ashara, you mean.”

This belief, while fair, makes Val furrow her brow and meet Lana’s misgivings directly.  
“No, both of them. I realize what I’ve said before, but…I do wish to protect Bejarah too. She’s my friend.”

Lana searches Val’s features for a few moments and also digests the mental variables flowing from her emotions. Seems she’s not trying to deceive either of them.  
“Very well.”  
She lowers one hand to the mirialan’s waist and pulls her in, while the other invades the black hair to caress its smooth and sturdy strands. With no resistance, she envelops Val’s full lips in a purposefully and craving kiss, one that tries to utter a phrase without articulating it – _‘please be mine’_.  
Once it ends, their eyes stay shut and their foreheads are pressed into one another in an affectionate fashion.  
“But for now, I ask that you give me some of your time as well, when we finally have the chance.”

Val relishes the touch and the sensations flourishing between them. She can’t help but shiver just a little and instinctively wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. Sometimes, she’s reminded by how energetic their bond can be.  
“Of course, I’m sorry.” She angles her head and brushes her lips delicately against those of her lover. “I’m yours”, she whispers.

Lana resumes her previous stare, raising one hand to slowly caress her thumb over the tiv’chka on Val’s left cheek, with the passionate glimmer in her eyes temporarily intensifying.  
With the oath now established, both give each other just a sliver of space, hoping that they haven’t drained too much attention from those around them. They generally attempt to keep lust in check. Perhaps some of the pressure of overworking is getting to them both.  
“Maybe static art isn’t for you”, Lana suggests. “We could have chosen a different place.”

Val shakes her head.  
“It is, in some cases. Though, I will admit that I prefer abstract styles. Oh, and your works, of course.”

This bit of flattery prompts the advisor to snort.  
“Thank you, dear, but I don’t think mine are even worthy to consider. They pale in comparison to the masterpieces in here.”

“Hey, don’t say that. I disagree, darling. Your art is delightful. I love everything I’ve seen from you. In fact, I believe they might belong in an establishment such as this. Wouldn’t you want to apply, at least?”

Lana grimaces straight away, an almost visceral reaction.  
“Stars, no. I can’t compare myself to these people at all. They’d reject me in a heartbeat. I’d rather not be humiliated.”

This scathingly self-critical and insecure response is not the first Val has ever encountered. For exhibiting such excess of confidence, professionalism and determination in other avenues, Lana can be exceedingly fragile in more personal domains.  
“Oh, stop it. You are very skilled, darling, trust me. If you want, I could try to exert some of my station’s power to…influence the submission process.”

The proposal, while sweet, makes Lana scowl.  
“Val, no. I appreciate your care, but that can only end in disaster.”

Well, perhaps this solution would be too drastic. Either way, Val caresses her partner’s cheek and leans closer, planting a kiss on Lana’s jawline.  
“You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much, Lana. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s a lie.”

The human’s eyes drift shut once more, and she exhales through her nose.  
“What I meant was that I don’t _for the most part_. But when it comes to creative endeavors, well…”

Val scans Lana’s expression, sensing the hesitation and reluctance. She wonders what she could possibly do to help allay such troubles. They don’t belong with someone so gifted as her lover.  
“You are allowed to hold these beliefs, my dear, but you shouldn’t let them cripple you. I wish to see you flourish, in all facets of life, whether work or hobbies and-“

The mirialan suddenly loses track of the conversation and the rest of her thoughts, for they are both distracted by a surge of noise, commotion originating from two positions – the windows and the streets outside. The latter is getting particularly loud. Several minutes ago, they caught a few minor bursts of ruckus, but this element is now getting increasingly undeniable and unignorable. An investigation is paramount. The couple hurriedly approaches the windows, to see what’s going on.

A lot of the visitors have apparently been drawn to the same location and despite the abundance of room, the whole span of it appears to be blocked by other people. Getting an actual useful angle is nigh impossible, because…well, Val is shorter than most of them. There’s now no other route available - Val recognizes that she must assert some authority. She clears her throat in a volume that is audible for almost everyone around.

“Excuse me. May we pass, please?”

At first, only a few guests glance in this direction, which they might normally ignore, but the sight of Val makes them wince and step aside. This quickly spreads to other people, by the visitors tapping shoulders and pulling arms, to create a road for the Councilor.  
There’s a murmur of apologies and bows, before they get out of her way.

She merely lifts a hand and exudes no emotions of outrage.  
“No need. I’m not offended. Thank you for graciously letting us pass.”

However, this mood does not linger for very long and instead plunges into further foulness upon witnessing the sight outside – a lot of humans have gathered, with plaques, signs and holographic images. The dissident citizens, of course, shouting disapproving words and phrases. They’re standing in the middle of a road close to the entertainment complex and the area which they chant from is guarded by imperial soldiers, who are seemingly protecting their right to express their concerns. Who could’ve ordered this? Val has suspicions, but no answer comes to mind.  
Some of them carry texts with various opinions or catchphrases, such as ‘Give us the real Empire’ or ‘We have an Emperor, not a Queen’. Others carry unflattering caricatures of her. All of it makes her frown.

Around this crowd, they can observe bundles of other citizens who are not joining in on this nonsense. Most of these people include freed alien slaves, though many of them are noticeably calmer. The majority only stare puzzlingly or worriedly at this debacle, while the occasional person yells back, trying to start up a partial resistance. A clash doesn’t appear to be imminent, but it’s difficult to tell whether that will change.

The demonstrators keep shouting about retaining their Empire, the true Empire and proclaim their loyalty to the Emperor, and while they carry images of Val, they don’t mention her by name.  
Eventually, the volume of their demands amplifies as a man gets up on a small nearby stage, taking on the applause and cheering. It makes Val squint.

“Layton Sparigle”, she mutters.

The outspoken reactionary human begins a speech of some kind through a microphone and portable speakers, but it isn’t possible to hear from within the art gallery. The distance is too great.  
No matter, for Val doesn’t require his drivel churning in her ears to extrapolate a viable conclusion and understand how this was arranged. She is here and that’s no mere coincidence. The question, though, is how. How did they know? She hadn’t announced her arrival beforehand and he’s not even from this city.

Ash and Beja have come to stand next to their friends and both grow increasingly uncomfortable.  
“Perhaps we should ignore it”, Ash suggests. “They can’t hurt us in here.”

Lana, on the other hand, furrows her brow as she glares sharply at the pale blonde man.  
“I wonder if now might not be the ideal time to arrest the fool and end this charade”, she mumbles.

The one whose judgment is of most critical value here and can make a difference, wavers instead. No selection here appears better than the other to Val and she really wishes she had more time to ponder this in private.  
It is during this fluctuating uncertainty that chaos erupts.

Someone, they can’t detect the exact source except the fact that they stand among the crowd of aliens, pulls out a blaster pistol and begins to fire. This person hits two dissidents and even shoots a few rounds after Layton, which go astray.  
The disorder escalates very quickly in the subsequent seconds and human demonstrators immediately turn and storm the other citizens. Most of the second group flees, but some attempt to meet their foes head on.

The audience in the art gallery, including Val and her team, is obviously shocked by this event. They had expected animosity, but not outright violence. They realize that they must act. The group may not be dressed for such an occasion, but it doesn’t matter.  
“Khem!”, Val shouts. “Form up on me, right now! We have to get out there!”

The dashade and his squad obeys, carving a path for their leader by shoving people out of their way, letting Val remain unobstructed.  
Once they get outside, they notice that not only are the protestors fighting, but the accompanying soldiers join them too, trying to either arrest or disperse the aliens opponents.

The Councilor notes how one soldier is bashing a nautolan man with the butt of his gun, who isn’t really retaliating.  
“Trooper, stand down, right now!”, she shouts, but he ignores her.

When he realigns the gun to aim the barrel at the nautolan, she grits her teeth and harnesses the Force to drag it out of his hands. Perhaps he truly didn’t hear her or simply didn’t care, but now he looks utterly shocked, cognizant of what he’s facing. In reaction to this, two more soldiers actually raise their weapons and directs them at Val, which surprises the mirialan. She’s stunned by the idea that soldiers would flash such audacity against a Sith, which temporarily hinders her movements.

Luckily, she’s assisted by two other far fierier spirits. With bristling fury, Lana reaches out and seizes the throat of one soldier using the Force and lifts them up in the air, shortly before slamming them back down to the pavement below with a hard thud. Simultaneously, Khem charges into the other and punches their helmet, sending them flying away into the fighting crowd.  
Val blinks perplexedly, her mouth left agape.

“What…in the void was that?! Did they just-“ She groans and shakes off her questions for now. “Soldiers, get in there and separate these two groups, but do it carefully!”, she orders her own detachment. Fortunately, they obey without question.

Despite their intervention and the involvement of three Sith, discernable progress is very scant. The disarray only seems to get more ferocious and more people from some nearby district come to join the fray. Val is starting to get the hint, that to succeed here, she has to make a more ostentatious effort, to announce her presence. If that is what they wish, then so be it.  
She gathers energy from the reserves inside her mind and body, circulates it through her veins and transmits it to her hands, which she then raises into the sky. Power leaves her fingertips and a storm of lightning ignites in the air, frightening the whole gathering with its flashy purple brilliance. Many promptly backs off, some even flee.

Thanks to this maneuver, the soldiers have an easier time to conduct their jobs. Ash is there to help out with Beja in tow, making sure that the injured are taken care of, though she focuses on the aliens.  
Val, who has now accumulated the attention from across the field, stomps into the middle of this confrontation.

“This is a shameful display!”, she declares. “I am immensely disappointed at your lack of insight and empathy. The Empire has had enough of this stupidity and it’s time to end this clash. The ones responsible for this shall be captured and prudently punished, but everyone else involved in this fiasco shall be considered as well, mark my words.  
Now, I _demand_ to know where Layton Sparigle is.”

She may just be one short woman and a few minutes ago, more than half of this assembly was hurling most unkind thoughts at her. And yet now, after such a fearsome spectacle, they are rendered speechless. Only one single person dares to speak.  
“Uh, h-he…he left, my lord. Saw him run after the shots went off.”

Val’s frown deepens, feeling incredibly frustrated. But of course he fled. Why would he stay, the coward? The Councilor turns to face her lover.  
“We’re going to instill order here and then we’re going to find out what the hell happened.”


	61. In conventions mockery (part 02)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Whenever I write Layton, I always think of him with the voice of Simon Templeman, the guy who played characters like Loghain in Dragon Age. He has the right amount of volume, passion and indignation to his voice for an antagonist like this._

Shadows and flickering light travel across the walls of Darth Imperius’ office in the Imperial Citadel, as a familiar voice echoes from the holographic projector near the seats. It is one that has been allowed to hurtle its vile ranting at them a few times by now, although Valcera is growing exceedingly convinced that she should prohibit such possibilities, because all it really does is give her a headache.

“Yes, I know, I feel it too my friends. These events were harrowing, most despicable and unbelievable”, Layton says on his broadcast to whatever audience he has, voice filled with feigned sincerity and a touch of sorrow. Has to be fake. Val refuses to believe otherwise.  
“I’m confident that most of you heard of the incident at the last rally, how a ferocious and cold-blooded _killer_ rudely intercepted our message of truth and honesty, one that many brave imperial citizens share with us. It is yet another sign that we are all on the right path.”

He takes a deep breath, visibly attempting to gather his thoughts and suppress his unbridled grief. The theatrics make Val pinch her nose, trying to restrict her own anger for now. Simultaneously, Layton straightens his pose, infusing his expression and voice with determination and fervor.  
“But let us not deceive ourselves. The rabble outside our gathering should not receive the full blame, even if they will pay when the revolution comes to the Empire.  
No, a sizable portion of this tragedy simply _has_ to be hurled at the true perpetrator, the real mastermind – Darth Imperius herself. It can only be she who machinated these sequences, capitalized on our vulnerabilities.”

The pale blonde man suddenly furrows his brow and strides forward, to the edge of the stage he’s on.  
“I see the doubt in your eyes. Don’t be surprised, for it is all true! She was in the city herself, hiding in the shadows until the deed was done! It was a contemptible plot, a ploy to not just divert us from our current righteous path, but to set fear and disarray into our hearts, concepts we cannot welcome!  
This attack of hers is clear proof of her intentions, of beating down any voices of truth, the real backbone of the Empire and that her _kind_ is attempting to subvert humanity from its rightful role as rulers! If we grow lax or hesitant, we will falter from this road and lose everything we’ve ever fought for. It is time, my friends, to stop giving in and instead rise up.  
I call for all imperials, all believers in our Emperor’s glorious vision, to join us, to fight back wherever and whenever you can! You are proud, honorable and honest, followers of the Sith Empire! Anything else is a sham!”

The holographic device shuts off rather abruptly, deactivated by Val herself. She sighs and rubs a hand over her eyes.  
“I’ve had enough of that bloody nonsense.” She’s pissed off. It can be heard in her voice, felt in the air, even by those who don’t have any Force sensitivity. She’s almost on the verge of erupting into literal lightning. Instead, she simply rises and begins pacing in her robes, away from the table.  
“Now he claims it was _my_ attack? That stars-damned _bastard_. He just can’t seem to stop lying about me and I hate that his rumormongering is actually working. I didn’t want to play into his hand, but what was I supposed to do? Allow the riot to cause more deaths? Unthinkable.”

Next to the seat she was sitting on earlier are three women – Francine, Bejarah and Ashara, all of them clothed in their official ‘uniforms’. Or simply outdoors gear, in Beja’s case. It is the rattataki, with folded legs and one arm around her girlfriend, who shrugs and responds.  
“Couldn’t really be helped, but you shouldn’t listen to his bathanshit anyway, Val. He’s the liar and those dumbasses who follow him are blind.”

Despite the comfort of sitting with the one she loves, Ash can’t remain this way for long. She rises, strolls up to her former teacher and caresses Val’s shoulders.  
“Master, it’s going to be okay. You did the right thing and we saved a lot of lives out there. It could have gone much worse.”

Val shuts her eyes, exhales and places one hand over Ash’s fingers in a gentle fashion.  
“I know, darling, but…”

Beja strokes a hand over her own chin thoughtfully.  
“Hmm. Then again, our presence likely spawned that protest to begin with, so…”

Another sigh, this one from the mirialan’s nose.  
“I hate that it’s true.”

Being unsatisfied with their conclusions, Ash sports a small frown, before she slides her arms around her mentor’s torso and plants her chin on Val’s shoulder, hugging her from behind.  
“Don’t think like that. It’s not a healthy viewpoint, to blame ourselves for this. It will merely shackle us to specific areas on the planet and isolate us from what actually occurs across the Empire. It’s what he and his followers want.”

Briefly, Val wonders when Ash grew so wise. No, that’s not fair. Ash has always been smart and filled with insight. That’s why Val promoted her, right?  
“My lord”, Fran interrupts, “I’ve received a bunch of messages from all over Dromund Kaas. Various regional leaders and members of the Outreach Bureau request official announcements.”

Val has faced interviews in this manner previously, but now she’s really starting to wonder what she should tell them. There are a lot of pits to fall into. She can’t be too aggressive, but…  
Perhaps what Lana has been declaring is true? Maybe she should hit back, dispense some discipline to the people for once?  
No, that won’t work. It won’t help the image she’s been attempting to build, to stand out from typical Sith.

“Francine, dear, can you filter all of those interviews and find some that are a little more lenient to begin with? I’m getting a headache and I’d prefer to not get pounded before I’ve fully recovered.”

The Ensign gives her an understanding smile and inclines her head.  
“Of course, my lord, I can do that. Perhaps I should speak with Simiris as well. This isn’t her territory, but she has contacts in all sorts of places. They could potentially offer some support.”

“Thank you. I would be grateful.”

Before any other topics can be raised, the automatic door to the office suddenly opens up and Andronikos, Val’s faithful friend and pilot, steps inside. He’s wearing a pretty casual outfit, a jacket and some purposefully slightly worn pants, with robust boots. In his hand, there’s a small device.  
“Got what you were lookin’ for, boss”, he says and holds up the item – a mini holoprojector.

This garners the attention from the entire room and Ash disentangles herself from her master, as they both move closer.  
“You’re sure?”, asks Val.

“Positive. Wanna see?”

“Please.”

As he spins it around and presses a button, what they soon receive is footage from the rally, taken by some of the security cameras in Caredence. It’s an imperial city, so naturally, there is a flurry of surveillance pretty much everywhere. Escaping them is nigh inconceivable.  
The timing for the vid that Andronikos is displaying for them is prior to the clash, just as the shooting is about to occur. When it erupts, he stops it.

“Right, and then let’s rotate it a few degrees…” He mumbles and transfers to another angle, so that they can see it happen from the front. “And zoom.”  
The image enhances and closes in on the shooter, where they notice a hooded person. Clicking a few other settings, he clears up the static and blurriness, allowing them to witness a face, a woman. It very much appears to be a human, from what they can perceive, but it still provides them with few answers.  
“And that’s our culprit right there.”

“I don’t recognize her”, Val confesses.

He puts the transmitter down on the table and folds his arms.  
“Yeah, me neither. Had to cross-check with a bunch of other info in your databases and some of my old contacts. Eventually, they delivered an image.”  
The next picture he accesses looks more official, some type of employee registration profile. They note the paler skin, the short red hair, the deceptively affable appearance. On top of her it reads ‘Serah Devalt’.  
“Apparently, she’s a known associate of Layton’s. Got a bunch of pics with them standing next to each other.”

And there it is. It now seems abundantly clear and conspicuous that this incident was not just faked, but undeniably engineered by Layton. Not entirely unexpected, of course, due to the circumstances at the rally, but they at least have proof.  
Val moves a hand to the pilot’s arm and squeezes it gently.  
“Very good, Andronikos, thank you. We can work with this, but I wonder if it’ll be enough. And there’s also another question we need to answer.”

“What’s that?”

Val wraps one arm around herself, lifts the fingers of the second hand to her lips and directs her eyes to the moment of the shooting. Her gaze is distant, reflective.  
“In spite of his insistence, I somehow get the feeling that he did not perform this alone. He simply can’t be behind all of this without some type of backer. It seems implausible.”

Andronikos considers the idea and shrugs.  
“Eh, I dunno. Lotsa jackoffs like this fucker have gained traction elsewhere. Just need to say the right garbage to the right idiots and you’re set. Don’t see why this would be any different.”

From the sofa, Beja nods.  
“I’m with Revel. You might be underestimating ‘im, Val.”

Ash, on the other hand, looks at her master with intent eyes.  
“Is there something specific that gives you this inclination, master, or just intuition?”

“Well”, Val starts, “he has accumulated a horde of people to rally behind him, he has constant opportunities to broadcast on open channels, he somehow gained access to a contingent of imperial troops, he anticipates exactly where I will be and orchestrates plots like this one.  
Either we have a spy inside our department or there is someone constantly watching our movements from the outside. At least those are the only two solutions I can discern.”

These points highlight a very real issue and a fact they cannot ignore. The whole office begins to churn and ruminate on the subject.  
“So…who could it be?”, Fran inquiries.

“Gotta be someone important”, thinks Beja.

Andronikos frowns and poses a suggestion of his own.  
“I bet it’s another Sith. I mean, who else would, right?”

“There are a few other alternatives”, Val admits, “but yes, it seems very likely.”

Ash mirrors some of the other expressions in the room and her lekku coil in annoyance.  
“It is very foolish to create further dissent in the Empire, especially when we’re trying to combat the New Empire. It can’t be someone from the Dark Council, can it? Would they really be this stupid?”

Val snorts derisively, though not specifically aimed at her friend.  
“Has impending demise prevented ineptitude among these buffoons before? Just look at Thanaton and Baras. A lot of Sith can be depressingly shortsighted with their end goals and desires, despite the circumstances. But as of right now, I don’t feel confident enough to point at anyone specific.”

But she has her suspicions. Only needs to search for a few more hints to get them confirmed. Then again, that might require Sparigle himself.  
In the meantime, Fran clicks the datapad in her hand, one she almost always carries around, to stay updated.  
“I don’t know any of the details, but if it’s someone else, an unexpected source, I could rummage through old information about your previous exploits, my lord. Perhaps a former enemy has resurfaced for one last hurrah.”

“Hmm, maybe. If you can spare the time, go ahead, dear.”

And that’s when the door slides open for a second time, to reveal the figure of a blonde woman, in her black and green outfit, striding with firm and assured steps.  
“You are on the right track”, Lana announces, “but I have acquired a few additional conditions which you will have to process.”  
The Councilor is a little confused. Was she listening in on them from the outside? The door should be too thick for that, but…  
Her thought process is interrupted by Lana’s proximity, as the human leans down to give Val a quick kiss.  
“Are you okay?”, she asks softly.

Thankfully, such worries evaporate with this touch and Val sighs instead, tilting her head towards Lana’s shoulder.  
“I feel awful. Depleted. I hate all of this.”

Without opposing the intimacy, Lana runs a hand up to caress the back of Val’s head, while she pushes her nose into the Councilor’s hair.  
“I understand completely, but this fight isn’t over, Val. We won’t let him win.”

“Heh. That you believe in victory is a small comfort, at least.”

“I know we can succeed. I decided to contact one of our allies, just to be sure. She has some critical intel for us. Are you ready to hear it?”

To be honest, Val would prefer to just stand like this for the rest of the day; or even better, snuggle with Lana on the sofa and forget about the rest of the galaxy trying to burst through the door. But she puts these dreams on hold and shoves them into a mental folder where they can’t thrive or distract her. She corrects her physical position too.  
“Definitely.”

Lana approaches the table, places a holocomm on it and actives a call that had been paused. The hologram of a very familiar figure appears – Cierah Draconius, or Cipher Nine. The black-haired human has her arms behind her back, face rigid and stoic as always.  
“Darth Imperius, it’s good to see you again”, she states with an even tone.

“Cierah?”, Val utters with mild surprise in her voice. ”Hadn’t expected you, but I’m glad you’re here, so to speak. Hope we’re not disturbing.”

“Not to worry, my lord. Endless multitasking was part of my Intelligence training program.”

“If you say so. How goes Makeb?”

“The situation is stable, and we are progressing towards our intended goal at a steady pace. For now, however, I hope you will be lenient, for I cannot divulge any further information. We don’t wish to expose any unintended leaks. Enemies are swarming all around us.”

“Very well.” Val glances between the two humans. “Since I didn’t actually contact her, though, maybe you can explain, Lana.”

Lana briefly inclines her head and gestures at the hologram.  
“I decided to send our files over to their team and it appears that miss Draconius knows more about Layton than I had anticipated.”

“Indeed”, Cierah admits. “Though I was rudely interrupted in the middle of some intel calibrations by miss Beniko, I did take the opportunity to scan these documents.”  
Her dry sarcasm makes Lana roll her eyes. This light rivalry between them just won’t seem to end, but the advisor is probably partially responsible for its persistence. She does keep imposing on the agent, after all.  
“Interestingly, I immediately recognized the face I was provided with.”

Val blinks confusedly.  
“You know him?”

“Not personally. We’ve never met. However, I have an entire folder containing data regarding people like him.  
He may call himself Layton Sparigle and maybe that is his original name, but I know him much better by another identity – Minder 26.”

The eyes on several people in the room widen, except for Andronikos who scowls.  
“Hold on”, says Val. “Is that not…an Imperial Intelligence designation?”

“It is indeed.”

Andronikos snorts sharply and shakes his head.  
“Spooks. Shoulda known.”

“But…I don’t understand. What would an Intelligence agent be doing here, getting involved with this type of nonsense? He can’t possibly be doing this as some form of revenge, can he? I was never responsible for the dismantling of your organization. I wasn’t even _in_ the Dark Council at the time.”

“You weren’t, and I doubt he is”, the agent explains. “It’s much more feasible that another entity or authority has somehow employed his services. Such endeavors have happened many times in the past. That said, I am confident that 26 himself is most probably behind much of the underlying strategy and information gathering.”

Val takes a deep and onerous breath. She hadn’t thought this could get much worse and yet the galaxy keeps surprising her. Is this a punishment of some sort? She can’t think of why.  
“I…don’t know the details of all your monikers. Could you enlighten me?”

“Of course. The job of Minders used to include processing information, anticipating enemy movements, extrapolating vulnerabilities, as well as both addressing and creating defensive fissures. Sowing chaos is in their nature; though that can obviously be claimed for all imperial agents. It’s what we were taught to do.  
I haven’t been able to keep track of every single former agent’s choices and deliberations, but while a majority of them fled, some came back. The former Minister of Intelligence – whose current status I cannot comment upon – has revealed to me that a few went to other Sith lords and prostrated themselves. To be spared torture or other far worse torments, I can imagine that Minder 26 here went to one of them and was thereafter embroiled in the plot. Who is truly behind it, that’s the real issue.”

So Val’s hunch was right all along, at least according to Cierah’s belief, which she trusts. It makes this situation not just precarious, but perilous. She can’t recall if she has ever faced an imperial agent before. If Cierah is anything to go by, this could be tricky.  
“You know his ilk better than us. What can we do?”

“Well, the most immediate recourse is to capture him. If you know where to strike, it is a viable play. That he’s genuinely loyal to the one who holds his new leash is highly unlikely. If he has yielded to one, he can bow to another.”

Lana promptly nods with firm resolve.  
“We should investigate and track down his next location.”

“I’ll speak with my people”, Andronikos suggests. “Got a few ears here and there. They’ll find something.”

“Yeah, I can do the same”, says Beja.

Next to Val, Ash gestures at the projector that Andronikos provided them with earlier.  
“We can use the scheme he utilized during the attack as proof of his dishonesty.”

The Councilor nods in agreement, but isn’t fully convinced.  
“A useful idea, but I want more. We can’t rely on this as our sole source. We need to properly discredit him.”

“That would necessitate more thorough research, which might take time”, Fran points out.

“Unless…”, Cierah starts, alluding to something that gains her the attention of the office once more.  
“I am currently extremely occupied with a whole range of other tasks, but it wouldn’t be too difficult for me to…fabricate information, since I have his dossier. I can work with SCORPIO to achieve a pertinent amount in no time:”

Using lies to fight lies? Val furrows her brow, getting uncomfortable.  
“I…don’t know. I don’t like that at all.”

“But it’s the quicker solution”, says Lana. “I believe it’s worth bending the rules, if it means we can arrest this man. He already did. Why shouldn’t we be permitted to employ the same methods?”

They aren’t alone, as Beja swiftly agrees.  
“Yeah, I’m on their side. If he thinks he can besmirch you, then hit back.”

“Definitely”, Andronikos concurs. “I don’t see how it’s any worse than what the fuck this guy is doing right now.”

Val bites at her lower lip and glances at her companions. Ash seems to be similarly upset by this notion and Fran looks unsure, but doesn’t protest. In the end, both of them are on Val’s side either way.  
Finally, Val relents.  
“Dammit. Fine, do what you have to, Cierah. We will find this man and bring him in, whatever the cost.”


	62. In conventions mockery (part 03)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you haven't played or otherwise seen the Imperial Agent storyline, some of this might be confusing._

An extended search was never necessary, not with the resources at the disposal of Valcera and her companions. Their target’s next destination was eventually tracked down and led them to Terlo city no less, an area that has garnered and granted attention to the Councilor a few times by now.  
It seems foolish by Layton to make this move, as it’s one of the cities that has held true to Val’s interim rule, but perhaps this is merely the first step in a long process. Fortunately, it will end before the first hurdle.

The team has procured a shuttle from their reserves in Kaas City and those who were assigned to come with their leader are sitting together now. Trying to catch whatever privacy they can attain, Val and Lana are seated next to each other, upon two chairs within a corner, near one of the windows. Past its glassy hide, transitory sights flash by, some too quickly to properly discern. The distant dark sea, the thick swamps, a few bursts of lightning in the distance. To many natives, these are beautiful and wonderous views, but Val merely feels that they help steel her for what’s coming, to harden her resolve. They are no more than ambiance anyhow.

Luckily, she has another entity to help soften her heart, restore some balance. This is, of course, Lana’s visage. Just like her, the human’s attention is drawn to the exterior, though it’s more probable that she is equally introspective at this time.  
Lana’s concentration eventually shatters and she blinks confusedly as she detects a hand on her cheek, which turns her towards the mirialan. Their eyes are interlocked, fierce yellow clashing with gentle blue. Different and yet complementing each other so well.

The human merely sits and waits at first, as if expecting a statement, but Val apparently has another idea in mind. She digs one hand into Lana’s hair and pulls her down slightly, guiding her into a craving kiss. It isn’t forceful, for Lana obviously complies, but inextricably saturated with passion and zest. Lana instinctively slips one of her own hands across Val’s thighs, squeezing fondly, but not harshly. Had they been anywhere else, in a far more unnoticeable corner, well…

After the surge of pleasure subsides, both of their eyes open no more than halfway, teeming with residual lustful energy. Val leans in to playfully nibble at Lana’s lower lip, producing an amused glimmer in the glowing gaze of her girlfriend, but only momentarily.  
“Nervous?”, Lana asks quietly.

“A little. But you are a decent distraction.”

Lana rolls her eyes.  
“Tsk. I wouldn’t be, if you weren’t so easy to divert attention from.”

“Maybe you should stop being so magnetic.”

“Sure, I’ll lower my ‘seduce Val’ settings posthaste.”

The snarky duel makes Val snicker and soon nuzzle into Lana’s cheek, as the mood softens.  
“When this is over, I want to go away for a while.”

“Vacation?”

“Hmm. Something akin to it, I suppose. I want to meet with my House. My…family.”

Lana reaches out and gingerly wraps an arm around Val’s frame, tenderly stroking her fingers on the Councilor’s back, while her face marginally sobers.  
“You wish to visit Mirial?”

“Yes. Or at least arrange an encounter somewhere neutral.” Her eyes drift to rendezvous with Lana’s once more. “And I want you to be there.”

The advisor tilts her head slightly, making sure that her view of Val is unobstructed. It has practically become a habit now, but Lana runs a couple of fingers over her girlfriend’s cheeks, across the tiv’chka. She likes touching them, the lines that determine Val’s life, even if they don’t have any specific texture.  
“You’re certain?”

“Never felt more confident. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…it’s a big step.”

“For me or for you?”

Lana chuckles, imbued with only a dash of nerves. Okay, maybe she’s not untouched.  
“I…would enjoy it too. You have met my family, so I guess it’s a fair trade.”

“Then it’s settled. We will go together. It’s going to be quite exciting.”

Lowering her hands, Lana leans back in her seat once more.  
“Heh. I suppose we shall have to wait and see.  
I…hope they won’t be disappointed. With me, I mean.”

Val skeptically raises her eyebrow as she scours the human.  
“Ridiculous. You’re the woman I adore, admire and respect most in this galaxy. If they care about my feelings, they will show you equal courtesy.”

These words allay some of Lana’s worries, though far from all. She’s always just a little guarded, no matter the scenario. Perhaps an undeniable truth of being Sith.  
When she reflects on Val’s response, there’s one angle that gains particular notice.  
“But not the most beautiful, huh?”

A brief pause ensues from Val, before her nose twitches and her lips curl into a smirk.  
“Well, that would be me.”  
Lana soon erupts with a soft laughter.

And so, finally, the city towers up within their vision and the shuttle enters its borders, setting down on a platform not too far from where Layton meant to assemble his followers and audience.  
While the couple has already noticed the approach, Khem still rises and marches up to them.  
“Master, we’ve arrived”, he reveals in his native tongue. “We are ready for the confrontation.”

She inclines her head in return.  
“Thank you, Khem. Stand ready, for this might potentially get violent.”

The dashade visibly clenches one of his fists, his everlasting frown deepening somewhat.  
“I am always prepared for blood, master.”

As they exit the vehicle through the automatic doors, they realize that it is not just Layton’s followers who have gathered, but new people too, a crowd that is opening up to his message or at the very least wants to hear what he has to say.  
There are far fewer aliens in this city, except the servants and slaves that Val has yet to tear the chains off of, and none have come out to attend this event. She doesn’t blame them.

Layton stands on a constructed stage, like a metal platform about two meters above the ground, with a set of stairs leading to the top. A microphone sits in his hand and speakers enhance the volume of his voice.  
“I have observed the progress of this once proud city”, he explains in the middle of his speech, “with such long history and acclaim. Many important creative minds and clever strategists originate from here. There is a constant thirst for improvement, for evolved enlightenment.” His voice adjusts and grows a little deeper and darker.  
“But do you know what disappoints me? It is your leaders and their utter blindness to the truth of Darth Imperius, the woman who has clutched her avaricious grip around the entire planet. And the rest of the Dark Council simply ignores it all, enables her to gallivant across previously proud grounds and tear them asunder!  
The only way to alter our current destructive heading is for the people, all of us, to unite and make our voices heard. Let the corrupt politicians and the cowardly moffs hear your discontent! Do not tolerate complacency and defeat into your hearts, or we will lose all that we possess!  
Every time we stand up and remain resolute, she grows a little weaker, a little more afraid of what we can accomplish. We must flaunt our valor and tell her ‘no! Here and no further!’  
Terlo city must not give in! I urge you, do not abide this usurper to vandalize our legacy! You can all do better!”

Suddenly, from the left flank of the stage, Val separates herself, backed up by Lana, Khem and a detachment of imperial troops. There are none of the latter with Layton at this time, but that does not make their job easier.  
“Ah! And here comes the culprit herself, no doubt to unveil her latest scheme! I must admit I’m surprised she would dare show her face in public after all the damage she has caused.  
Is she ready to face the music, perhaps? To finally fess up to her crimes? If so, we welcome it! But I suspect one as disingenuous as she would never give in to the righteous. Watch carefully, my friends! Watch injustice at play.”

However, while he ostensibly invites them, there are a few who disagree – a small trio contest their progress, including one pureblood and two humans in tow. They are positioned at the top of the stairs. Based on the lightsabers that are unsheathed, it’s easy to surmise that they’re all Sith, though none of them ignite their weapons just yet. Everyone knows what chaos that might conjure, as a sign of imminent combat.

“Sith?”, Val asks incredulously as she approaches. “Has he truly duped all three of you?”

“Darth Imperius, stay back!”, the pureblood tells her. Val scans his form, but she doesn’t recognize his features. “This man speaks the truth and we will not allow you to take him, Councilor or not.”

Val spreads her arms in a shrug.  
“Are you serious? No wonder you’re so unfamiliar. No self-respecting Sith would ever be so stupid as to take orders from this inane rambling fool.”

The hold on the lightsaber tightens and the pureblood’s thumb seems to falter, potentially preparing to push.  
“I am a true Sith, one of purest blood. You are nothing, a _disease_. You should have been expunged long ago.”

The phrase does not go unheard by the audience, who seem astonished that he would spout such bold words straight into the face of a Dark Councilor. It can only mean certain death.  
However, it is Lana who steps in between them, in front of Val, and glowers at the Sith above. Her eyes practically burst with energy, pools of dark side power that would challenge him, as if she wishes to tear him apart.

“And if you utter such insolence to her again, I will wring your neck and crush it; slowly and painfully.”

Her voice is as sharp as a vibroblade, but not loud. The pureblood is unimpressed.   
“Hmph. Another sycophant? But of course. She has too many of them. If you wish to fight, little worm, come face me. We will gladly feast on the blood of traitors.”

His taunting is on the brink of succeeding, but Lana barely holds back, even if she struggles not only with indignation, but actual palpable fury. It’s not her own pride that concerns her – they’re deriding Val’s honor, an angle she will never condone.  
Luckily, the mirialan herself comes to seize Lana’s arm and physically pulls her back.  
“A charming gesture, darling, but I do not need to be coddled.”

Lana looks a little bemused at first, until she clears her throat and realigns her pose, to regain some serenity.  
“I…sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“I know.” She briefly narrows the distance between them and whispers suggestively. “Your ferocity is…delectable.” She doesn’t even need to check, to sense the excited chills running through Lana’s body.  
Now free to act, Val aims a poignant glare at the Sith.  
“And you”, she points. “I find your allegiance to be uninspiring and deplorably ignorant. Take a long hard look at your so called ‘hero’. Would you genuinely protect a killer of Sith?”

This was obviously an unanticipated turn of events. The pureblood and the rest of his posse are marginally taken aback.  
“…pardon?”

“I have hard evidence depicting this man’s involvement with the death of a former Dark Councilor. Is that an individual you would shield from imperial law?”

Her words are no doubt preposterous, and he seems highly incredulous of the veracity. But her eyes and tone ring of truth, one he cannot ignore. Against his better judgment, he steps aside and signals for the others to mirror him.  
“Very well, we will give you a chance to speak. But if you attempt to deceive us…”

“If that was my intention, I would not have delayed – all three of you would already be burnt to a crisp”, she states intensely.

With her path unhindered, Val strides up the flight of stairs, past the Sith and faces her opponent. With her head held high and eyes trained on Layton, the distance between them becomes smaller and smaller. He plainly tries to simulate her, but she can see now, for the first time, that it’s a façade. There’s something in his gaze, and even more so in his mind, which falters when confronted with the Councilor. It is hardly visible to the onlookers, but she can sense the stench of fear. He cannot hide from a Force user and he probably knows it. Time to put on a show.

She starts by turning to the audience, the combination of loyal lackeys and bewildered citizens.  
“Greetings, Terlo City. I’m sure you are all well aware of my identity, both from previous visits and the incessant monologues from this man, but I shall introduce myself regardless.  
I am Darth Imperius of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, and temporary sole custodian of Dromund Kaas during the turmoil of war that ravages the Empire. I apologize for the interruption and the sordid display. No, I am not speaking of my own appearance, but the disgorged bile from this man’s approximation of a mouth.”  
She slides her arms in behind her back and slowly drift over the edge of the stage.  
“He goes on tirades about charades, of truths and ruses. And yet isn’t it delightfully _ironic_ that he himself perpetuates a sham?”

Layton attempts to steady his pose and scoffs.  
“Excuse me? Do you think you can simply waltz in here and turn the people away from the light with mere words? And meager lies at that.”

“Oh, not at all. Let me provide something more… _tangible.”_

Val gestures to one of the soldiers, who holsters their weapon as to appear less threatening, rushes onto the stage and produces a holo transmitter. From it, a few large holograms are projected, derived from the rally at Caredence. There, the audience are permitted to witness the shooting directly and the brawl which it initiates. The subsequent violence makes a few of them gasp. Most are not opposed to such measures if it’s targeted at the enemy, but these are imperials.

“Rewind”, Val orders. “Home in on the shooter, please.” This demonstration is preconfigured, but the soldier makes a show of following the command regardless.  
“This is Serah Devalt. I’m sure most of you are completely unfamiliar with her, but someone else has a closer established relationship. A friendship, if you will.” The vid is swapped for images of Layton and Serah talking in some unknown location, clearly closely affiliated.  
“This was mister Sparigle’s first trick. She is one of his associates, his follower, with whom he plotted and engineered the entire incident at Caredence. He orchestrated it.”

The people of Terlo city are of course shocked, but this will not remain unchallenged for long.  
“Ridiculous!”, Layton blurts. “This is obviously manipulated footage, a blatant fabrication! Do you take us for fools, ‘my lord’?!”

This incites some courage in his believers, who begin to boo. The Terlo citizens, however, do not join in. They wait to evaluate all provided proof.  
“Oh, so this was not enough to satisfy you? My sincerest apologies, then”, she says sarcastically. “Allow me to present a more prudent piece of evidence that perhaps _all_ shall comprehend.”  
One set of pictures is exchanged for another in the projection, containing people, places and situations in a past emergency. She signals for the soldier to stop at a particular man.  
“I trust some of you have seen this person – the Eagle, the terrorist leader which near set the Empire ablaze a few years ago. Does anyone recognize the area? Yes, it is one of our spaceports close to Kaas City.”

Everyone studies all of the data in silence now, noticing how a group digs into some form of mechanisms and fiddles with intricate and complex gear.  
“Anyone here know the date, hm?”, she inquires. “No? Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” She inclines her head at the soldier, who exhibits a captured orbital picture – they see a large dreadnought being torn apart by internal explosions.  
“The day that the imperial ship, the Dominator, was destroyed – the death of Darth Jadus.” She snaps her fingers, quickly diverting to the footage of the spaceport and one of the saboteurs.  
“And this man? I’m sure this face is easier to grasp now. Yes, it is mister Layton Sparigle himself. Not simply conspiring with the terrorists, but being one of them. This man is not a patriot, not a hero, but a criminal, an _evil_ to be purged.”

The shock begins to settle in among his followers now, even the Sith trio. Some murmur runs through the gathered humans, but no one flashes any resistance. Without facing him, Val points a finger at her opponent.  
“He may have escaped justice before, hid when the rest of his organization tried to defy our imperial defenders, but he forgets that the eyes of the Empire are everywhere. And it does not forgive traitors.  
Is this a man you would laud and raise above all others? A man who cares nothing for imperial security, except what he can devour and demolish? He is no hero. He is nothing but a conman!”

As Val shifts her stance and faces him, she notes his own staggered state. He’s baffled by the footage and just…no words seep out of him. Suddenly, it’s as if he’s bestowed clarity and stares into her eyes, like he knows that she could not have arranged this alone. The images rendered and reshaped…only one source could’ve obtained them.  
“I…”

Val immediately interrupts.  
“In the name of the Sith Emperor and the honor of our glorious Empire, you are under arrest, Layton Sparigle, for colluding against the Dark Council and treason of the highest degree. Should you resist, your crimes will only exacerbate, and punishment grow exceedingly more severe. I cannot condone such folly.”

Despite everything presented, a few attempt to raise their voices, to defend him, but they’re a minority now, even among his previous followers. It’s not just pointless, but an endeavor which Layton himself opposes. He swallows, musters some bravery and lifts his hands.  
“Stand down, my friends, stand down. I…I suppose I cannot hide any longer. Darth Imperius…speaks truth. I was a member of the Eagle’s terrorist network once. I had hoped to escape this end, but…I guess nothing is ever forgotten”, he states in a defeated tone. “I aided Darth Jadus’ downfall.”

He swiftly becomes resigned, almost at the same rate as the people’s emotional response shifts. First surprise, then dismay, followed by anger, booing and outraged shouting. They wonder what the hell is going on. He lied to them all, for all these weeks and months of preparations?  
Before anyone can storm the stage to harm him, Val grabs his arm and pulls him in.  
“Let’s take you away, shall we?”, she asserts quietly. “I think this game has come to an end. You and I have much to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A little bit of clarification: I always assumed that the truth regarding the Eagle's network was never revealed to the public and that's why this plan worked._


	63. In conventions mockery (part 04)

Their homecoming to Kaas City isn’t exactly heralded with fanfare and style, but Valcera does still make sure to put on a bit of a show regarding Layton’s public capture, allowing some of the Outreach Bureau’s cameras and other equipment to observe their advance.  
However, as soon as the keen eyes of the city cannot follow them, instead of marching straight into the awaiting grasp of Laws and Justice, the team veers away and guides their prisoner into Val’s own headquarters, where they had always meant to hold him.

‘Layton’, or Minder 26, is led into a set of private and cordoned off quarters, where they can separate him from the outside world and not expose anyone to what is being done to punish him.  
There doesn’t appear to be any particular need to tie up or cuff him. When Val orders her loyal troops to place him in a chair, with Khem standing watch, he does not resist or struggle. Apparently, he has already surrendered to his fate. He looks resigned, exhausted perhaps, like he has grown ten years in a matter of hours. Waves of fatigue and abandonment washes over him. He likely never expected to be here.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty, as they say”, Val starts, “I want to establish something crucial. I know how your kind operates, the way you people like to manipulate and swindle others, so let me make it uncontestable – I know all about you, Minder 26. Don’t test my patience.”

Harsh, decisive. Val does wear the guise of a Sith quite well, even if she does not truly harbor such principles.  
26’s expression implements a greater degree of serenity than the man known as Layton, his voice now carrying none of the previous zeal and ardent hostility; two aspects that have been hurled at her for weeks now.

“As you wish, my lord. Then let me commence by admitting that I never had any desire to fight you, knowing just how suicidal that would be.  
It…was nothing personal, lord Imperius, just-“

She promptly interrupts him.  
“Don’t tell me it was business.”

He becomes momentarily introspective, attempting to produce a more apt response.  
“No. More like…survival.” He snorts with bitter amusement and looks down into his hands.  
“It’s just like you said – ironic that I am seated here, bested by my own methods. The techniques ingrained in my very essence for so long.”  
He hesitates, unsure whether the next question is acceptable in this scenario. Then again, what does he have to lose?  
“You may chastise me for this line of inquiry, but I have to pose it regardless – who did you capture?” Val furrows her brow. “Don’t be surprised. You could not have accomplished this astounding victory on your own. Only my people could be so…efficient.”

Val folds her arms, giving Lana a glance, before she partially gives in.  
“For your sake, I shall not acknowledge that as an insult. I did indeed have an ally, yes, one from your former organization. I evidently cannot divulge any of the details, except the fact that no capture, imprisonment, torture or threat was involved. The agent came to me.”

26 raises his eyes and squints, surveying her face and stance. There’s no blatant duplicity, but how can he sift out falsehoods from reality?  
“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You have to be.”

She arches a mildly entertained brow.  
“Really now? And why is that, pray tell?”

“Because no one sane from my organization would ever trust a Sith after what we have endured.”

“And yet, from what my operatives have informed me, you came willingly.”

He grimaces and turns his head away.  
“Then your agents’ competence is lacking. I approached my employer because I was discovered and had no other choice. Torment or submission – those were my only two options. I’m no Sith, so the selection process was short-lived.”

“Very well, then your experiences differ. Not everyone adopts such brutal methods, 26. The one who chose to contact me did as such due to her belief that my way may be the sole realistic path forward for the Empire. The change she desires can only be accessed from endeavors like mine. By her own words, she also hoped to regain a fraction of her conscience, to undo what she perpetrated under Sith whims.”

He listens and imbibes every word, every syllable, giving him something to ponder and he embraces that opportunity. It must be in his nature to assess every angle and offered comment, due to his previous career. Perhaps there is something in this viewpoint which resonates with him.  
“Your partner is either very stupid…or exceedingly insightful. I doubt I shall live long enough to watch the endgame either way.” He exhales briefly and rests his arms on the table.  
“Nonetheless, a clever move, whomever it was. Didn’t ever think that our own resources would be exploited against us. Seeing those images again was…surreal. Feels like a lifetime ago. A…better time.”

He sounds nostalgic in the way he confesses this fact. Val wonders if everyone involved would be so enthusiastic to agree.  
“Comfort is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.  
Now, let’s get down to business, to why you’re truly here. I didn’t have you detained for no reason and I demand to know a very critical detail – I need to locate your master. You will tell me their identity and the route to their hideout.”

She can detect streams of dread and discomfort in him, which he has troubles with masking. It makes him sigh, in a heavier fashion than before.  
“You have my solemn vow that I can provide these elements to you, but I need certain...reassurances.”

Val frowns, even if she had anticipated this angle. A man like this would not have yielded without some form of strategy.  
“Issuing stipulations at the eleventh hour, 26? Seems most unwise in your current position.”

“I have to. If you simply toss me to the vine cats, I can give you nothing. Perhaps you do not view me as a threat anymore, but all I did was for the purposes of survival. Promise that you will protect me, and I shall grant you anything you ask.”

“ _Protect you?!”_ , Val practically spits. “After all you have done?”

26 dips his head slightly and entwines his fingers.  
“Please, my lord, you have to believe me. I never intended to harm or besmirch you. It was impossible to escape his clutches. This was all I could-“

“Who, dammit?!”

26 recoils slightly and inhales shakily.  
“Reassurances. Please, I beg you…”

She and Lana share another look, with Val slowly beginning to tilt towards a more lenient approach. Noticing this, Lana places a hand near her side of the table and glowers at him.  
“We could incinerate you here and now if you prefer. That is a viable alternative.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Her hand shifts appearance and the fist slams into the surface.  
“Shall we test that claim?”

He stares at Lana, obviously somewhat discouraged. Lana oozes with much more dark side energy and he can feel it, like a chill sliding across his skin.  
“I…I know that Imperius would not. She is…not quite like the rest. I may have disparaged her in public, but all I did was recite lines that I was supplied. You have to trust me.”

“We don’t _have_ to do anything. We hold all the cards here.”

Finally, Val has seen enough. A hand is planted on Lana’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.  
“Relax, Lana. Interrogating him now is pointless.”

Lana snorts, crosses her arms and retracts her hostility a tad.  
“It is not, if it gets us what we require.”

This was a tactic they had previously discussed, an idea posited by Lana herself, which Val gave into. But it seems softening him up was not a lengthy procedure. Val shifts to face him fully, with more tender eyes.  
“I will grant you amnesty, if that is what you wish, but it will not be without caveats. A prison cell, that is the best I can do. Isolated, of course, protected from whatever fool you caved into.”

26 studies her, a shimmer of disappointment reflected in his eyes, though not a lust for combat.  
“Is this…my only option?”

“You’re damn right it is. Regardless of your condition and obligations, you still helped create entire mobs, riots and permitted a blind resistance force to flourish, which could incite a new and less reasonable wave of terrorists. You get a stay of execution.”

His reluctance to this notion is fleeting and he raises his hands a few inches in the air.  
“I have nothing else to bargain with – I surrender to your wisdom, my lord. I suspect it’s as close to an optimal conclusion as I can hope for in this disaster.”

“It certainly is. And before we go anywhere, you shall fulfill your end first.”

The ex-Minder inclines his head and then moves a hand towards his jacket. A few guns immediately fly into his face, halting this motion as his eyes widen.  
“W-wait! I…I’m unarmed. It’s just a holocomm.”

The soldiers do not retreat, not until Val gives them the all-clear.  
“Compose yourselves, troops. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”

The weapons are lowered and 26 exhales discreetly, before he finally produces what he indicated – a small dark grey communications device.  
“Instead of providing you with notes, I thought I’d do even better and present you with this. It was inevitable that you would eventually retrieved it, of course, but it is encoded.”  
Val approaches, beneath Lana and Khem’s watchful gazes, as 26 hands it over.  
“Implant access code 5716-IC104-33RAZE. This will reconnect you to the correct individual, though I’m skeptical of how much enjoyment you will derive from it.”

This final comment is a little peculiar, but Val ignores it for now. Time to face her nemesis, the one who dared challenge her leadership. She hopes her assumptions are nothing more than illogical fears, but she can’t relax until she has extracted the truth.  
Val lifts a hand to her chest, takes a deep breath and snatches the device from his hand. Shortly after, she begins to insert the numbers.

From afar, Lana tentatively monitors her actions. Eventually, she narrows the distance in between.  
“Val, are you going to take this call right here?”

“I am.”

“Is that appropriate?”

The mirialan has not decelerated her action one bit, being no more than a few letters away.  
“I don’t see why not. I want for this bastard, who almost plunged our whole nation into intensified turmoil, to perceive their failure with their own eyes and ears, and hear what my reprisal shall be.”

“I…guess you do enjoy one-upping others.”

The hologram that emerges from the top of the device, after a minute of delay, is only mildly surprising. She had expected this vision, having placed it in her list of top candidates for the role of deluded buffoons that would gladly instigate such upheaval, and yet somehow, she had maintained a shred of hope it was all a fallacy, a simple case of unjustifiable bias. She had a small piece of faith that he wouldn’t be so monumentally incompetent…and she was wrong.

The man on the other side of the line has his back turned at first, but the reinforced robes, the slick brown hair, fair skin and most of all, that aggravating voice, is unmistakable.  
“What requirements did I issue when I granted you this device? Do not initiate contact while-“  
He stops and blinks only once, before his disposition rapidly alters to half amusement, half irritation.  
“Ah. Finally found him, did you?”

Val grits her teeth inside her closed mouth, employing a fiery glare, whether intentional or not. She clenches her fists and strives to suppress her rage.  
“ _Ravage_. You stars-damned, dull-witted, trivial arsehole!”

Relocating his arms to his back, the other Councilor chuckles and shakes his head.  
“Well now, I hadn’t thought it would be this simple to boil your blood. I suppose class was never within your repertoire.”

“Is that coming from you?! Look at those robes! It’s like you’re stuck in the last decade!”

He rolls his eyes, unimpressed and disinterested in her measly insults.  
“I have no time for games with you, woman. There are more vital matters to contend with.”

“More vital-…listen here, you walking pile of gundark dung, you will not be taking a step outside of that room until we have spoken! You have much to answer for!”

“Hah! You believe I’m afraid of you, that your shrill threats make me whimper? Even you wouldn’t be so naïve. I have never feared you, Imperius, _and I never will_.”

She senses tremors running through her body, the tension in her jaw. There are few Sith that she has ever encountered, who fills her with such an odd combination of disdain, revulsion and glibness. At this very moment, the former two take precedence.  
“Do you realize what you almost did?!”

“Caused some issues for you? Oh yes. I’m not afraid to confess that it was most amusing to compile all of these obstacles. And then see it come to fruition, causing you to squirm and stumble every step of the way? Priceless.  
I considered some additional countermeasures, but it was far more entertaining to watch you dig your own grave.”

She will never comprehend him, nor men of his ilk, and what brings them such pleasure to devise chaos and ruin.  
“Why did you do this, Ravage? Why start a feud now, in the middle of a war?”

“Feud?” He chuckles derisively. “Oh please. This was nothing more than a distraction. I was growing tired of your incessant belief that you could outwit me in the Dark Council chambers and turn our colleagues to your side. But I never surrendered, and much is required for me to relent. See this as…a meager version of revenge.”

She is nearly on the brink of throwing the unit into the closest wall, but she stifles such thoughts. For now.  
“If you hadn’t noticed, you shortsighted piss stain, we are fighting a losing battle out there! Do you even have the intelligence to grasp how catastrophic it would have been to gain a rebellion on our hands and one led by a liar no less?!”

Nothing she says appears to budge him. Her accusation merely elicits a nonchalant shrug from him.  
“No worse liar than you. And I’m shocked that you would inflate the urgency of this situation. This is the way of the Dark Council, child, how it has consistently operated. If you are not mentally prepared for the political ploys and conniving incisions, then perhaps you should abdicate and leave your seat to someone more worthy.”

“I’m aspiring to craft a better future here and your sabotage helps none of us, you fool.”

“Better? Maybe in your paltry Sith-hating mind.”

“Sith-hating?! What deranged accusation is that?”

Some of the smugness leaks out of him now, and he seemingly strides up to the holo transmitter, though his appearance does not change much. Additionally, his voice grows several degrees more intense.  
“I see what you’re attempting to perform on Dromund Kaas, in your Sphere, as well as the Dark Council. You are polluting and weakening us, erasing all that makes us Sith. It was high time I put my foot down and bring you down a peg. And did you notice? Did you see how easy it was to convince the masses? The Empire is still your adversary, Imperius. The people will not kneel to your ruses.”

Well, at least she has indisputable evidence now of her effects on him. She never would’ve believed that he would be so single-minded as to nearly emulate Malgus’ moronic notions, though.  
“I spit on your narrow and inane mindset, Ravage and I will not give up. A few fools will always exist.”

“And yet with what we have already induced, we could trigger a tremendous amount of damage. Imagine what would happen, should the Empire really rise against you. Be careful what you wish for, _girl.”_

“You don’t scare me any more than all of those who have ever strived to hurt me, throughout my life. Take you best shot, Ravage, for I can endure far more than your measly strikes; the scars I bear are proof of my tenacity.  
I will fight you and I will eliminate you. There won’t be a war, but I will ensure that you are dismantled, humiliated and deprived of any and all power before this is over. Mark my words.”

A searing glint rushes through his dark blue eyes and she cannot discern whether it is derived from anger or exhilaration.  
“I accept your challenge. This will not be the end.”


	64. Corellian whiskey (part 01)

At an initial glance, an onlooker might not perceive any meaningful difference in the exterior aspect of Alvirrad, one of the habited worlds in the fringes of imperial space. It might appear as nothing more than a typical mundane day, where the citizens perform their obligational duties and make sure that the institutions, installations and facilities operate with the appropriate amount of efficiency. However, the rancor is in the details.

After a few days of circling, scouting and infiltrating Alvirrad, the team homed in on hunting Decimus has finally come down to the surface, in order to execute their plan.  
In the outskirts of one of the larger cities, within an industrial expanse filled with hangars and factories, the squad can be found skulking around in the shadows of a particular building. Although, it isn’t really fair to say that they’re brandishing a full roster, because the entire group is not gathered in one place. They’ve split up specifically to carry out this strike.

Several guards are stationed in the vicinity; some patrolling, other simply hanging out near one exit or another. It is by one of the latter packs, containing three regular New imperial troops, where activity soon arises, as they receive company.  
Jovana, Torian, Ayzera and Vette are all strolling straight across the street towards these entities, who are of course fully armed. Their stride does not escape the trio’s notice, but when they shift to address them, Jov lifts her hand and waves casually, much to their surprise.

“Uh…hey!”, one of them yells. “Stop! What do you think you’re doing here? This is a restricted area. No civilians allowed.”

“Oh, nothing special. Just reckon you might wanna have a look at this. My pal here has got a pretty nifty trick.”

“…trick?”

Ayzera proceeds close enough that she can obtain a decent range. Once it manifests, she uses the Force to grab the gun from one and knock it straight into their face – stunning them – before she tears away the rifles from the other two, leaving them unarmed. Her companions seize this opportunity – the mandalorians charge into the two weaponless soldiers, decking them instantly, while Vette bolts into the last, knees them in the groin and then delivers a hefty double-fisted blow to the back of the head.

Jov snorts and dusts off her hands as she observes their handiwork.  
“Good job. Nice touch over there, Vette.”

The twi’lek nudges the unconscious trooper with her boot, making sure they’re properly knocked out. There is no physical response or reaction, signifying her success.  
“You know, brawling isn’t usually my preferred approach, but that was kinda satisfying. Think I see the appeal now.”

The commander of the quartet doesn’t respond, as she raises her arm and activates her wrist comm unit, to contact their allies.  
“Team two and three? All clear over there. Good to go into the next phase.”

On the other end, she hears the somewhat carefully concentrated voice of Ktila.  
“Roger that. Advancing.”

From an alley outside of the hangar’s premises, the chiss darts out, followed by Jaesa, as they storm a few patrolling guards in unison. There are three in total, who not only get ambushed, but summarily pummeled.  
Ktila and Jaesa practically fly over the fence with grace and panache, demonstrating their outstanding control of the Force. As they touch down on the other side, they throw their hands forward and discharge a wave of invisible energy, sending this trio crashing into the hardened concrete wall of the facility, like instant knockouts.

With the coast clear, they swiftly move up to the sole door in their vicinity, and lean into the wall, as to not be too easily detected.  
“Team one? Infiltration accomplished. The door is still locked, though.”

That is phrase which Jov deciphers as a clue to trigger communications with the third team.  
“Mako, you got everything under control over there?”

The young slicer responds with only a few seconds delay. She is currently in a separate district of the city.  
“Mhm, you bet. Got all the integral systems hijacked, the appropriate operational access points reached and security functions skillfully bypassed. Didn’t even break a sweat. Well, I’m technically just in a chair, but…  
Anyway, the team did a pretty good job penetrating the physical defenses too”, she admits, referencing Gault, Blizz and Scourge who are with her somewhere in the same locale.  
“Well…okay, it was mainly Scourge’s show, to be fair. But my point stands!” After a few seconds pause, Mako resumes with her voice lowered into a whisper.  
“Uh, by the way – don’t tell big red, but…I still find him a little creepy. Like the way he takes enemies out is just…disturbing. And you know what? I’m convinced that he never blinks.”

Jov is unable to prevent herself from laughing shortly and shakes her head at her friends skittishness.  
“Mako, focus, alright? We got a job to do here.”

“I know, I know, I’m in here, champ. Haven’t lost eyes on the target or anything, just…thought I’d mention it.”

“No need to worry”, Ktila asserts. “That is just how he is. The transformation of his essence by Vitiate has made him…detached. Both emotionally and physically.”

“Thanks, I noticed. Doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.” She exhales, hoping to expunge her unease for now and press on with the task at hand.  
“Lemme get you up to the speed on the interior. The ship we’re after is tucked inside that hangar, but beyond that, there isn’t a whole lot of gear. Besides a bunch of repair bots, the whole joint has been pretty thoroughly cleared out.  
Oh, uh, actually…hang on. How many bucketheads did that roster we dig out from the databanks mention?”

The line is silent for a few seconds, before the Jedi produces a reply.  
“I believe it said that a squad oversees security measures at all times.”

“Right. And squads are usually uh…smaller than like, thirty people, correct?”

Ktila hesitates.  
“Well…that depends on internal protocols and military systems, of course, but…ordinarily, yes, most nations tend to imply no more than a dozen soldiers with that term.”

“Oookay. Then I think we have a lil’ snag here, because now that I’m monitoring the interior halls through the security cams, there’s _way_ more than a dozen. Like three at least, maybe more. Wonder if they’re on heightened alertness for some reason.”

From her position, Ktila shares a cautious glance with Jaesa, but neither of them tries to embrace the idea of panicking now. They can’t afford that.  
“Hmm. Could be, but let’s not speculate too heavily. Our team should still be proficient enough to grapple with such numbers, if we act with guile and discretion.”

“Hell yeah we are”, Jov agrees. “I mean, fuck, my team has tussled with bigger batches than that. We’ll think of something.”

“If you’re sure”, says Mako, with mild skepticism at the exaggerated bragging. “Either way, I can’t make out any Sith from this angle. I’m no Force wrangler, though, so my report on that front is pretty limited. Right off the bat, there are no traces of lightsabers, anyway. Guess they wouldn’t strap them to their wrists, exactly.”

Furrowing her brow, Ktila disappears into her thoughts, probing the air around her for the explicit flavor of energy that only a few distinct wavelengths exude.  
“I can definitely sense the presence of the dark side, but…”  
She veers to her companion.  
“Jaesa, you’re more precise than me. Anything you can do?”

The Sith Lord inclines her head, shuts her eyes and delves into the rifts of her mind, extracting a power that she taps fairly often for various purposes, in order to sift out truths from unnecessities.  
“Hmm. Yes”, she reveals a few seconds later. “There should be at least four Sith in there, based on the aptitude of presence and the energies flowing from these individuals.”

“Four…”, mumbles Ktila. “That seems like a lot in one place. For a ship this size, I mean.”

“Perhaps, but it’s an accurate amount, from what our scouting reports have discerned.”

“True. This is a bit of a dilemma. I would’ve preferred to exploit a few tactics that we’ve employed among the Jedi, but I suppose that would be counterproductive here. Most of you are unaware of the details and explaining it would take too long. It’s pointless.”

The whole team tries to ruminate on the issue, to uncover a way out. That’s when Jovana snaps her fingers, with a surge of inspiration.  
“I got an idea. Let me apply a little somethin’ we learn in hunter school.”

Vette aims a raised skeptical eyebrow towards the hunter.  
“…pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

Jov ignores her and lets her focus persist on her comrade.  
“Mako, are there any smoke detectors or fire alarms around here? You know, shit that one can access.”

“Hmm. Uh, yeah, I think so. I’ll open the door for you. According to the schematics, if you get into the first corridor, cut right and walk past the doors, there should be-“  
Her compliance comes to an abrupt halt, as she suddenly parses a critical aspect.  
“Wait a sec…idea? Jov, you’re not gonna-“

By now, Jov has already begun following these instructions, finding the final steps on her own.  
“Quiet, Mako. Big sis workin’ over here.”

Of course, dammit. She should’ve foreseen this type of angle from someone like Jov, a woman she’s watched doing wild crap for a few years now. It makes the slicer sigh.  
“Alright, guys. Get ready to be soaked.”

The rest of the team is momentarily brought to silence, until Ktila makes herself heard.  
“Uh, care to elaborate?”

“Nah, you’ll see.”  
In the meantime, Mako continues to work, her fingers and mind tapping away at such a pace that any observers would likely be unable to follow.  
“Already cut the camera feed for the New imp toadies, and I’m moving on to attempt interception of their comms. To prevent any calls from reaching other sections, I mean. Don’t want sudden uninvited reinforcements in this party, now do we?”

“I…suppose not. Please exercise caution, though.”

“Tsk. If you say nonsense like that, you don’t know me very well, Jedi.”

No more than half a minute’s break in verbal contact occurs, before Jov’s voice resumes.  
“Ready to roll, Ktila?”

Ktila nods on her end, an instinctual reaction. She knows Jov can’t see it.  
“We have been for the past few minutes. Just give us the signal.”

“Mako?”

The slicer abides.  
“Remotely unlocking every hangar door, pronto. You’ll obviously have to click the buttons yourself though, you slackers. Can’t do everything for ya.”

Shortly after Jaesa and Ktila give each other a quick look and an affirmative nod, the two Force users release the door’s mechanism and then dashes inside. And to their astonishment, they bump right into an unexpected sight - indoors rain. Kind of. This is what it is initially perceived as.  
In reality, Jov has simply activated the sprinkler system, which not only makes it arduous for the soldiers to fathom what the hell is going on, but also dampens the sound of the ensuing fight from the outside.

As the soldiers curse in their ignorance and the Jedi ignite their lightsabers to soar towards the first set of troops, Jov and Torian flank them from the other end. Both mandalorians are now adorned with their helmets, which have built-in HUDs.  
The troops merely become mild inconveniences in general, which the mandos and Vette can handle without breaking too much of a sweat, but the intruding Sith are another issue.

The two which are initially encountered are both tackled by Jaesa and Ktila, splitting up to take one each, but a complication materializes when one exit on the ship opens up to reveal two more. The Force using duo becomes aware of them quite late, but does not even have time to be alarmed – Ayzera arrives and leaps to intervene, obstructing the path to her master and Ktila. Her dual-edged lightsaber flares up and shrieks as it collides with blades of these Sith.

“Ayzera!”, Jaesa shouts, but her opponent does not enable her to switch location, nor focus. She has to continue fighting, to watch her apprentice potentially get overwhelmed in her peripheral vision.  
This evidently isn’t viewed as an optimal selection by the rest of Ayzera’s allies, as she will doubtlessly get into a whole heap of trouble by fighting two Force users at once, a challenge they aren’t sure she has ever tackled. Curiously, she manages to surprise them all, by being incredibly efficient and cunning.

Ayzera elects to use her opponents' underestimation of her against them. Seeing as how she’s not very tall and doesn’t look particularly imposing, nor does she exude quaking passions, most people simply presume she’s bereft of talent and strength. But not only is she an astute Force user, she’s also a very talented wielder of lightsabers. She has already demonstrated this fact against Torian a couple of times by now, but with the application of the Force, she thrives.

While her opponents are moderately impaired by the water that pours down over them, she has no such drawback. Her miralukan senses perceive nothing but the ebb and flow of combat in much more elevated fashions, the shimmering essences of life which these people are comprised of. She can detect and evade their motions with impressive proficiency.  
In the first minute, she deflects strike after strike from her foes, both directly and with brief applications of telekinetics, to unbalance them. Despite the other Sith’s bid to surround and trap her in the center, her weapon spins and flicks back and forth between them, using accurate and undaunted speed. When she can’t parry, she ducks or rolls away.  
Jaesa is obviously still concerned, but Ayzera allays every fear by handling herself brilliantly. It’s especially impressive how she achieves her first kill.

This is accomplished by exploiting their proximity and utilizing their wild swings against one another. Despite her progress, Ayzera will accede that these two are not the most creative opponents she has ever repelled. Both of them draw upon internal pools of raw power, almost exclusively, which in the end, spells doom for them both.  
She deliberately lingers in the middle, threading the needle, until she finds an appropriate opportunity to evade and let them collide with one another. As they are temporarily flummoxed by this clash, she dances around them and stabs her blade into the back of her first foe.

The remaining Sith is startled by this revelation, paralyzed for a few seconds, before they desperately continue. They feel fear settling deep in their heart, but any hope of gaining the advantage with such emotions is all for naught. Ayzera is precise, constantly prowling and waiting for her chance to strike. Eventually, she slides towards them, ducks beneath a clumsy swing and inserts her saber into the side of their abdomen. Passion does not always beat calibration, a lesson few Sith learn.

During this chaos, the blaster trio has already downed their obstacles with bolts and thermal detonators, and now storms the vessel, shooting their way inside towards the bridge. The crew does their utmost to curb this stride, but the team has a trump card they can’t match – T7. The astromech has inserted his circuits into exterior consoles and unseals every door. The officers on board are not skilled or fast enough to match him.

The commander of the ship is apparently bunkered in the bridge and when the mandos barge in, this man - likely in his forties - hides behind a set of computer terminals, from where he points a blaster pistol.  
“Stop right there, you bastards! This is a ship belonging to the New Empire and I demand that you identify yourselves and lay down your weapons, posthaste!”

From under her helmet, Jov blinks and then shares a look with Torian.  
“Did he just ask us to surrender?”

“Sounded like it.”

“After we plowed through like three dozen of his guys?”

Torian shrugs.  
“Isn’t that usually their MO?”

Jov swirls to the commander and points at him.  
“Yeah, actually, what is it with imps on either side not getting when they’re beat? I mean, we just blasted your whole fucking grid and you still wanna go?”

“We’ll never submit! You lousy, dishonorable, ignorant scum will never understand our fervor, our valor! We will evolve the Empire whether it likes to or not and bring a glorious future, of such a capacity that has never before been seen! Victory for Emperor-“

His little speech comes to a sudden stop, due to his chest being filled with blaster shots. Jov glances around and spots Vette standing a few meters to the right, a bit of smoke billowing from the barrel of her gun, apparently having seized the advantage and rounded the area to get a better angle. She lifts and blows at the weapon rather nonchalantly.  
“Meh. Classic imperial mistake – yapping in the middle of a fight.”

Jov tilts her head back and laughs.  
“Did I ever say I like your style?”

The rest of the guards pause, become frightened and dazed by the impending demise, but sadly, they cannot avert it. Together, the trio brings them down and with imminent victory on the outside, the ship is theirs.  
As Jov and her two companions exit the ship to go meet the Force users, the sprinklers have been deactivated by T7. The hunter looks very pleased with herself as she regroups with Ktila.

“See? Told ya it’d be fine. Piece of fucking cake.”

Regrettably, not everyone is in as fine of a mood as Jov happens to be, nor in as great of a state. Ktila, Jaesa and Ayzera are all inextricably drenched, which had of course been a warning Mako had issued. Vette had apparently heeded the caution and held a piece of plastic over her head while the others fought head on.  
“Maybe”, Ktila sighs, “but now we need several giant blow dryers.”

Another slight laughter from Jov as she removes her helmet, holding it under her arm.  
“Well hey, at least I can tell Zal that getting you wet is a lot easier than I thought.”

She hasn’t sustained a sharp and nearly deadly glare from a Jedi in quite a while, perhaps since Jun Seros. That is exactly what she receives following this joke, however.  
“…you’re doing nothing of the sort.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hmm. Still not sure about the "rancor is in the details" part. It was just funny to me_


	65. Corellian whiskey (part 02)

The Prowling Nexu – that was apparently the assigned designation for the vessel that the team managed to capture. Jovana has attempted to latch it onto the back of her mind, to remember just in case it becomes beneficial, but she also has to admit that it’s a very weird name. She has fought a couple of those beasts during her journey through the galaxy and while they can be tricky bastards, she wouldn’t exactly label them as ‘stealthy’. They’re huge beasts, compared to a human.

At any rate, after successfully carrying out the mission of gaining the stealth ship, the team dispersed themselves across its length and took on whatever duty needed to be filled. Unsurprisingly, T7-O1, Mako and Vette come to the most notable use here, due to their skillsets.  
Vette immediately sprints and gets into the pilot seat, seizing the bridge for herself, in a way, as she is the most suitable for that role.  
T7 rolls into the engine room, where he inserts one of his mechanical arms into an appropriate slot, discussing with and compelling the internal computers to obey his commands.  
Mako decides to extract more information regarding the ship’s personnel, former commander and the details about their patrol routes and responsibilities.

With all that accounted for, the rest of the team is not left emptyhanded, of course. Blizz has pursued T7, to see if he can’t assist the droid in some fashion. And from what Jov has been able to discern, the little guy really enjoys the company of the droid, though she isn’t sure it’s mutual.  
Torian and Gault, with little else to go for, have split their efforts over the other operational systems on the bridge, with Torian handling weapons.  
Jaesa and Ayzera expend their capabilities on preemptive defensive measures, conjuring large caches of energy, so that they can later coat the ship in a durable Force barrier. This does take a lot of focus to accomplish, though.

In all this swelling chaos, Jov has had to assume the de facto supervisory role, mostly because Ktila is not currently in sight. She had some sort of idea she wished to test and brought Scourge with her. They’ve not been seen since then.  
Casually pacing in the middle of the small landscape of consoles around the bridge, Jov has her arms folded as she sweeps the length with her gaze. This boat is definitely larger than the old Blood Fist, but nowhere near a cruiser. She muses over what Cierah would’ve felt about the fact that the Rogue Warden doesn’t share its size.

“Right, so how’s this scrapheap doing?”

Mako snorts and rolls her eyes at Jov’s chosen word usage, but doesn’t actually challenge it in any way. Their leader gain reports from across the board, starting with Vette.  
“Looking at all these tools, I’d say the Nexu is in prime condition actually and ready to set off whenever." She glances over her shoulder and sports a small smirk. “Captain.”

A slight grin forms on Jov’s lips as she points at the twi’lek.  
“I like that.”

Mako is sitting by a solitary console in a corner, though she’s not plugged into any specific station, just wired to the internal network. She facepalms and sighs.  
“Don’t call her that. Her ego is big enough as it is.”

“It’s not. And you’re my second now, Vette. Vice-Captain or whatever.”

“Woo!”, Vette exclaims with a raised hand.

“No, that’s not-“, Mako interrupts herself with a groan. “You know what? Never mind.”

Torian’s response is, as might’ve been expected, fairly concise.  
“Impressive weapon stock. An array of destructor missiles, four precision laser cannons and one turbolaser in the inventory.”

“And I may be no connoisseur of ship-grade defense systems or a shield enthusiast”, Gault establishes, “but I would wager that these rigs are at the top of their class. Would definitely fetch a hefty price on the black market.”

Jov arches a skeptical brow towards the devaronian.  
“Later, Rennow. Best put profits out of your head while we fly.”

“Now, I didn’t actually specifically state that my mind was preoccupied with the details of such an endeavor…but even if it was, I can assure that I am flexible and psychologically limber enough to handle them simultaneously, with impeccable precision.”

“Yeah, sure you are. Keep your eyes on the screen.”

Having returned to tapping away at her keyboard, Mako provides her friend with more intel.  
“I’ve been working on replacing the crew list with the faked names of our team, but I get the feeling it won’t be enough to slip past inspection unnoticed. They’ll ask questions.”

Jov shrugs without much care.  
“I wouldn’t worry too much. Once we’re up in space, it’ll be one straight ride towards the Sith boss’ ships and all we need to do is stall the rest.”

The mandalorian sounds fairly confident, but based on the look she gets from Mako, the slicer is not on the same page.  
“Uh, you do realize that if this is executed too sloppily, we might not even get within docking range, right? This beast may be tough, but it won’t be able to withstand a barrage of fire from every angle. It’s not invincible, Jov.”

“We’ll see.” She steps up to the intercom device attached to the wall and opens a channel.  
“Yo, T7, what’s the score?”

She hears a bit of beeping over the speakers, which she doesn’t really understand, but on one of the screens nearby, some text starts scrolling. He likely knows she’s not very well-versed in binary.  
“T7 = coerced computers + unlocked access to engine, shields, hyperdrive and weapon systems. //  
Team = Receive instruction manuals for updated maneuvering procedures + logistical stations. // Instructions = Reduce operational deficiencies in team.”

“Uh, isn’t that the definition of a manual? Whatever. Don’t answer that. Anything else?”

“Stealth generator = May take time to initiate. // Inflicted damage during previous battle + only recent re-implementation = Lack of system restart opportunities. // Generator + undergoing structural repairs = incomplete functional status.”

Jov taps her chin as she considers this angle for a moment, but doesn’t show any immediate fears.  
“Hmm. Well, you think we’ll actually need the damn thing out here?”

“Lack of orbital situational reports + no information regarding enemy’s reactions = Unknown conclusion. // T7 = Simply wishes to keep hunter notified!”

“Heh, alright. Thanks, bud. Guess it’s good to know we can’t slip under the radar, but I wouldn’t sweat it. We’ll manage.”

A louder tapping sound is heard from Mako’s direction now, as the slicer’s gesture signifies her slightly nervous state.  
“Could’ve been a nice boon, but…”

“We’re here to kill, not sneak, Mako.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Jov ignores her friend’s fussing and shifts towards the two Force users. They are both seated in a corner, in a mirrored pose – closed eyes, legs underneath, hands on their thighs. Looks very peaceful, but Jov suspects their minds are running a million miles per hour right about now. Shouldn’t disturb them, but she requires an update.  
“Willsaam, got anything for us? Just making sure you haven’t sensed anything out of the ordinary.”

Jaesa’s posture does not alter in any meaningful way, nor does her eyes.  
“There is nothing which the Force would deem to be of any immediate concern, no. We should be in the clear. I will alert you at the first sign of change.”

While she considers inquiring about another angle, Jov quickly dismisses that piece. Jaesa’s voice oozed with finality and any further debate is probably either superfluous or irritating.  
“Oookay. Guess that’s fine. We’ll just…keep spinning until you guys are done.”

Eventually, the entrance to the bridge slides open and the two remaining members of the squad rejoin the rest, but not without a small alteration.  
Ktila is largely unchanged from a cursory glance, except perhaps a layer of determination installed in her crimson gaze, but most of the attention is drawn towards Scourge. The big pureblood has had to discard his regular bulky armor, in order to wear a more suitable imperial officer uniform, albeit with New Empire emblems.

A wave of silence overtakes everyone, as they feast their eyes on the slightly strained stance, the unmistakable tension and discomfort floating all over him.  
Soon, Jov reveals a smug smirk and snorts.  
“Officer on deck, huh?”

“Fairly crisp, I’d say”, Gault posits, “though that coat evidently wasn’t tailored for you. And those pants might be a smidgen too tight, if we’re being honest. I could give you the number to a fellow with some ideas for improvements.”

“Believable, though”, says Torian calmly.

The one making the loudest noise is Vette, who starts to laugh, practically a guffaw.  
“He looks like a dog someone just dressed up in a suit!”

Scourge glowers at their pilot.  
“Silence, twi’lek.”

“Barks like one too.”

The only Jedi in the room shakes her head.  
“Please, tone down the mockery. This is pretty crucial moment. Everyone has to be in the right mindset and prepared accordingly.”

It’s still unclear whether Scourge himself is embodying this view, as he squirms and tries to correct some of the tightness around his neck.  
“Is this façade absolutely integral for our mission? It is insulting.”

“Well, I’m not sure I would go so far as to use that word, but it will better sell your disguise.”

“I look absurd.”

“Sure do!”, Vette blurts.

Ktila gives the twi’lek a scolding look, convincing her to return to her station, before the chiss plants hands on her hips and faces the pureblood.  
“You look fine. And may I remind you that, according to the files we procured, Decimus does not actually permit other Sith as commanders on his stealth vessels. Apparently, he doesn’t completely trust them.”

Off to the side, Jov crosses her arms and sits down on the edge of a desk.  
“And who can blame ‘im, right? As I hear it, infighting, power struggles and one-upping one another is more or less Sith law, so I get why he’d rather trust people that he can jerk around.”

Scourge stares at Jov with an ambivalent gaze; half-disapproving, half-reluctant.  
“That is a flippant simplification of my people’s history, conventions and principles…but it isn’t entirely inaccurate”, he mutters.

“Yeah, thanks, I know. Spent enough time in Sith pockets by now to know the deal.”

Behind Jov, Mako lifts her hand and snaps her fingers.  
“Scourge guy, you’ll be acting as a character I’ve cobbled together for this mission – Commander Vinthall. Non-Force sensitive pureblood. Former outcast, served in the navy for ten years, before he got tired of being kicked around by idiots and never rising in the hierarchy. You were promoted in the New Empire.”

Scourge’s glare is now shifted towards her, though the intent is ambiguous. Takes him a few seconds to voice his thoughts.  
“I’m unsure if the name is sufficient. It is bland.”

“Duh, you’re an imperial. Live with it.  
No need to memorize it all, I’ll send you the deets. Study them before we bug out, just in case.  
Oh yeah, Ktila, I also have a profile for the Lieutenant. Her name is Dielinne and I thought you could take that, to play the second-in-command. The role isn’t as substantial, so you oughta crush it.”

“Well, actually”, Ktila interjects, “while I wouldn’t mind assuming this part, I believe it’s better if Ayzera receives it instead.”

The miraluka suddenly twitches and snaps towards the chiss’ direction, as if she was listening.  
“…me? Why?”

“I’m certainly able to fake an imperial accent to a moderate degree if I truly try, but it’s not very…authentic. You, on the other hand, speak it much more naturally.  
I hadn’t thought about this while dressing Scourge up, but I’m now getting the impression that this may be the way to go. You’re still reinforcing the Force barrier, correct? Let me take your post.”

Not having an equal amount of confidence in the execution, Ayzera fidgets and bites at her lip.  
“But, I-…I don’t know if this is…”

Thankfully, support arrives from her mentor. Jaesa displays a soft smile and gently clutches Ayzera’s hand.  
“You can do this, Ayzera. I trust you. You are solemn and professional enough that no one would question your merit.”

Miraluka may not have eyes in the same fashion as other humanoids, but there are still a few telltale signs that one can distinguish – head movement, body language and if you’re versed in the Force’s mental streams, telepathic vibes.  
Ah, of course, it is not the task itself that makes her anxious. It’s the person she may have to work next to. Ayzera is still doubting herself in Scourge’s vicinity, after his previous critiques.

Nevertheless, she yields to her master’s faith.  
“Very well, master. I shall…endeavor to do my best.”  
After she rises and enables the Jedi to take her seat, Ayzera touches her robes.  
“Shall I not make an outfit substitution as well?”

“Hmm, nah, don’t believe that’s necessary, really”, Mako surmises. “The spotlights will be on mister mountain Sith over here, if we actually receive a call. Just uh, I dunno, put on a coat or something and stand behind a terminal. Should do it.”

While their roles are set, and everyone is gearing up, Jov still keeps her position as the temporary sole commander, due to Ktila’s diverted concentration.  
“Status report”, she calls out. “What’s the numbers saying?”

“Weapons are locked and loaded, ner vod”, Torian reveals.

“Shields too, if my eyes aren’t belying me”, they catch from Gault’s side. “Might require a little bit of spit shine, to reach a pristine condition, but we can’t all be perfect.”

One of the displays blinks and exhibits lines of text once more, a dispatch from T7.  
“Engines = Activated and ready for takeoff // Hyperdrive = available upon request.”

Over the intercom, Jov picks up Blizz’ voice too.  
“Blizz give stealth good whack now. Fix it if we need!”

“T7 = …worried about implications of employing violence for restoration enterprises.”

Jaesa nods calmly at the mandalorian.  
“Ktila and I will commence distribution of our protection techniques. Please don’t disturb us during this process.”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout the doors”, Mako reassures the team. “I got ‘em with remote access.”

From the front end of the bridge, Vette sounds like she’s in a pretty decent mood.  
“And your dutiful pilot can happily inform you that her exemplary insight into imperial flight controls has given her command over all navigational mechanics. All systems are go.”

Mako smirks.  
“Pff. You showoff.”

The oldest mandalorian has gotten onto her feet and glances at Scourge, who has been quiet so far.  
“And you, big guy?”

Scourge inhales in a slow and almost painful way, before letting it out in a resigned fashion.  
“Just proceed.”

Jov crosses her arms again, strides into the middle and inclines her head.  
“A’right, let’s do this shit. Vette, get us in the air. Gault, get the shields poppin’. Mako, knock those doors outta the way, will ya?”

“Anything for you, sis”, her friend replies.

The bottom thrusters of the Prowling Nexu ignites, slowly but steadily propelling them into the air, with the whole ship shaking, discharging fire onto the concrete floor. As the hangar’s hatch has swiftly finished its path, the back thrusters virtually appear to vibrate with excitement, as if digging its hindlegs into the air and then shoots them straight ahead, like a gigantic blaster bolt made of metal. The angle is quickly adjusted by Vette, who guides them into an ascending trajectory, out from the planet’s atmosphere.

Everything goes exceptionally smooth at first, proceeding without obstacles, as they approach the awaiting fleet in orbit. Sadly, the plummet into a convoluted mess begins all too early, prior to reaching their target.  
“Incoming message”, Ayzera, who’s by the communication’s console, informs Jov. “I think it’s from the fleet.”

Jov briefly dips her head and then points at Scourge as she steps aside.  
“Showtime.”

The mandalorian relocates to suitable station where she can pretend to be busy, while Scourge straightens his back and mentally straps himself in for what he considers to be a demeaning task.  
An old human man is projected in a hologram, facing Scourge and opens his mouth. His initial reaction is somewhat vexed, due to unidentifiable reasons, but that is swapped for bemusement as he eyes the pureblood.

“…and who in blazes are you? Where is Captain Adranius?”

“He has been reassigned. Commander Vinthall, his replacement. I am in charge of this vessel”, Scourge declares with a smooth and deceptively professional tone. At least he knows what he’s doing.

“What? But that’s-…no, that can’t be true.”

“It is. Did you not receive the transfer files?”

“We haven’t received anything. Not even Lord Decimus has said a word.”

Scourge peers to his side, towards his second-in-command.  
“Lieutenant, did you not transmit the mails as I ordered you to?”

Ayzera clears her throat and attempts to amass the pertinent amount of calm and deference.  
“Uh, my apologies, my-…sir. It must have slipped my mind, in all the disarray of our new duties.”

“Inexcusable. I demand perfection, Lieutenant, you know this.”

“Y-yes, sir! I shall rectify this mistake at once.”

The human, whoever he is, seems incredibly incredulous.  
“Pardon my bluntness, Commander, but this sounds awfully…suspicious. Sudden revisals are risky and jeopardizes our integrity.”

Scourge surely and gradually turns back to the human.  
“Undoubtedly, but this order was issued by Darth Decimus himself”, he asserts and studies the symbols attached to the man’s uniform, “Captain. I’m sure you will see this detail in the crew records that we will be providing you with now.”

With incoming files being obtained, the Captain vanishes for a couple of moments, before he returns, some of his qualms allayed.  
“Hmm. This does seem to follow the appropriate protocols and formalities, but-“

“I do not have time to debate the technicalities with you, Captain. The Darth has ordered an impromptu appointment with me and I do not wish to make him wait. Shall I allow you to shoulder this obligation for me, Captain?”

The older man – though blatantly younger than Scourge – hesitates and there are hints at a potential resistance in him still, but he decides to ditch them.  
“Fine, never mind. It isn’t important anyway, if your crew’s expertise is satisfactory.  
Your ‘appointment’ shall have to be delayed. Activate your hyperdrive, Commander. We are departing the system.”

Both Scourge and the rest of the team whirl at him perplexedly. Well, the pureblood reins any sharp actions in and merely tilts his head curiously.  
“…departing? To where?”

“What kind of preposterous question is that? To war, of course, Commander. We have been called to battle and must answer. Make sure your crew warms up the stealth generator, for we are likely to face the dogs of the Old Empire in close combat immediately upon exiting hyperspace.”

And here, the plan quickly has to be scrapped, for this was a development none of them had seen coming. Seems they may have to devise something new, and _fast_.  
“Aye aye, Captain. We will activate combat equipment right away.”

“Good luck. See you on the battlefield, Commander. Let’s hope you can prove yourself.”

After half a minute of strained stillness following the end of the conversation, Jov turns to Ktila.  
“Now what?”

The Jedi’s resolve does not seem to falter for a second.  
“We press on. Nothing has changed. We’ll simply have to find a different avenue to destroy or infiltrate his ship, in a much more disorderly scenario.”

Jov chuckles in disbelief.  
“Fuck. What a shitshow. Alright, charge the hyperdrive, Vette. Time to pretend being loyal troopers.  
T7? That stealth thing might be an issue we have to deal with after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yes, this is why the hangar was filled with soldiers and Sith - they were getting ready to embark_


	66. Corellian whiskey (part 03)

Flashing streams of light and darkness, whirling and surging in all directions, like a tunnel of sheer incomprehensible energy. The time for the Prowling Nexu to exit hyperspace is nigh and though the ride hasn’t been an all too lengthy one, there is still a thick layer of apprehension floating all over the bridge for the upcoming indeterminable scenario.

Weapons have had to be reloaded and ostensibly primed by Torian, in order to strike at the first clash with danger. Gault is standing similarly ready by his console, operating the shields.  
This obviously isn’t an ideal state of affairs. In fact, some might even describe it as a real clusterfuck and everything is out of whack. Fighting imperials – the _real_ imperials – sounds like an incredibly dumb idea and had never been on the agenda. Not that they don’t stand a chance with this setup, but this assignment was undertaken to help the Empire, not bomb it in the back.

For a few hours now, Jovana has been irregularly getting on her feet and pacing around on the floor, hoping it might lend her the necessary peace of mind, but she hasn’t had that type of luck. She can receive very little input from Ktila as well, as she and Jaesa have submerged themselves in a deep meditation, in order to once more coat the ship in their mental protection. This may end up being one of the most critical components of the impending fight, so she doesn’t wish to bother them.

Eventually, her relative social seclusion is interrupted by Scourge’s voice.  
“Holster that distress of yours. Your emotions will influence the other Force users.”

Jov furrows her brow, but she doesn’t look at him.  
“Keep your trap shut, I’m thinking. And I’m not ‘distressed’, dickhead.”

“If not, you have a peculiar way of maintaining composure.”

Ignoring his comments, she strides to the intercom controls and opens a channel.  
“T7, what’s the status of the stealth generator? We kinda need it active if we’re gonna avoid any suspicion lobbed at us.”

Sadly, the droid has few positive news. His mechanical noises are distributed via the speakers, but Jov checks the terminal screen instead.  
“Stealth abilities = Technically operational.”

“Technically?”

“Generator = Can be activated. // Insufficient preparations + Lack of calibrations + Unfinished internal system polish = Might not function accurately.”

Someone who overhears the progress of the conversation is Mako, who leans back in her seat and looks over at her friend from across the bridge.  
“Honestly, this might end in disaster. Decimus’ fleet probably had a ‘working generator’ criteria and the fact that we didn’t alert them about ours…”

Jov breathes out from her nose.  
“Yeah, I’m aware that we’re kinda in a pissy situation.”

“Just establishing our circumstances.”

“What, you think I can’t read? I can see the fucking reports off the monitors, Mako.”

Not good. The slicer can hear and see the tension in her friend’s posture, feel the agitation in her voice. It’s never a positive sign when Jov gets apprehensive. Not only because her fear threshold is much higher than the rest of the team, but because she sometimes seems to have a sixth sense for evaluating danger. Maybe Mako can alleviate it somehow.  
“Hey, c’mon, I'm just helping. Don’t get so churned up. We’ve dealt with worse situations in the past.”

“I know”, Jov states with a mildly annoyed voice. “Not really worried about getting outta this shit alive. Just wanna complete this job the way it’s supposed to be. If we gotta blast imperials in the face for it, that’s sorta the inverse of our objective.  
Plus, without the stealth field, Decimus might see us coming and order the whole damn fleet to blast us out of fucking space. Goddammit, I hate it when legwork screws up.”

Okay, she’s not just aggravated, but from the sounds of it, actively pissed off. Mako can’t discern the underlying reason for this friction, though.  
“You can’t hurl all the blame at our recon. It was impossible for us to predict every single component and unforeseen outcome in a mission like this. Seemed kinda inevitable that this would eventually go south.”

Jov shakes her head in disbelief.  
“Geez. Uplifting speech from miss hyperspeed-fingers over here.”

Mako rolls her eyes. Sometimes, they really do act like siblings, whether it’s to protect one another or needlessly bicker.  
“Jov, dammit, cool off. I’m not saying we’ve lost. We simply gotta bide our time, seize the opportunity when it’s discovered and slip into his ship. Right after the battle begins, probably. Unless that plan isn’t good enough for our mando Overlady.”

The mandalorian quickly shifts to stare at Mako, but this time, her friend doesn’t back down. Mako resists any temptations of relenting and that appears to be enough to mollify Jov. She just requires someone she trusts to criticize her behavior.  
Regaining a modicum of conviction, Jov nods in agreement.  
“You’re right, that’s gotta be the approach. Gonna be a damn tight squeeze, though.”

“Sure, but it was for the Sith guy over here too and he managed it.”

Scourge glowers at her, while Jov snorts amusedly.  
“Barely.  
Alright, guess it’s almost time to suit up. Torian, aim our cannons on Decimus’ ship as soon as you get a visual. If we can’t board that vessel, maybe we can at least blast it outta the sky…or, well, to tiny bits.”

The younger mandalorian dips his head in recognition.  
“I’ll do my best.”

Minutes later, just as expected, the scene they tread onto after exiting hyperspace is a chaotic one, which could be deemed as a slight conundrum. The most conspicuous and troublesome hitch? The battle between the New and Sith Empire has already commenced.  
Apparently, the call to war had been impromptu from whatever commander is in charge of this battlefield. Or perhaps the Sith Empire’s retaliation was swifter than the New imps could’ve ever predicted.

In either case, the small stealth fleet lines up into neatly coordinated positions and start their rapid dance into the fray, towards the center array of humongous metal creations and almost unintelligible swarms of blaster fire darting back and forth. Trying to perceive who’s winning from afar is a nearly hopeless endeavor, but that’s why they have sensors. Jov forgets what the files said about their destination, but the name of the system is inconsequential anyway.

“Hey, can…uh, whoever is in charge of scanners give me an update about the state of this fight?”

“Of course”, says Ayzera, who has stationed herself behind this console. Due to the fact that it has not been adjusted to miralukan needs, she has had to plug in her own datapad into a socket, allowing her to process the information by touching a special tablet.  
“The IDs that we’re picking up show a lot of Sith imperial ships in this system, outnumbering the New imperial ones. However, it is still unclear who has the upper hand.”

“Right. Well, keep an eye on it, will ya? Or uh, I mean-…you know what I mean.”

Ayzera offers a small smile and a short nod.  
“Yes, Captain.”

Soon enough, they catch some radio chatter on the channel that is specific to this squadron or stealth fleet. A deep and domineering voice echoes over the room, one that they can only assume belongs to their target.  
“Stealth ships of the New Empire, this is your commander, Darth Decimus”, he confirms. “It appears the cowardly vermin of the old and rotten nation outmaneuvered our comrades. They believe that they can gain the advantage with this conniving blow. Let us not abide such brashness to thrive.  
We shall fly into battle with the necessary fire and vigor, crucial for the state of our victory to be achieved and surmount our enemy’s final defense, their remaining hope. This farce has lasted long enough, and they will crumble under our rampage. The imbeciles of the Dark Council shall no longer surpass us.”

Jov puts a finger to her forehead and taps it, indicating the boneheaded speech.  
“Is the Empire always so damn long-winded before every battle, or is it just this guy?”

From behind, she hears Scourge’s voice. His arms are folded and he’s facing the front of the ship, not her.  
“Raising morale is an important aspect of war, mandalorian. I would’ve thought your clans knew this.”

“Pssh, banthashit. You don’t raise morale by making your troops fall asleep.”

Decimus obviously perceives none of this conversation and therefore continues his own communications.  
“Squadron, adjust your thrusters and prepare combat decks. Execute Catareg formation and follow me. Once we soar into battle, strike at the center of their patterns and split them up. Divide and conquer.”

Jov glances bemusedly at Vette and Mako, both of them turning to look at her as well.  
“…Catareg? The fuck does that mean?”

“Wish I knew…”, mumbles Mako.

Vette clears her throat.  
“Uh, yeah, I can fly alright, but I’ve never actually been _in_ the navy.”

Thankfully, assistance arises from behind, as Scourge speaks up.  
“Catareg was a battle fought about a century ago, prior to the Empire’s reintroduction to the galaxy and invasion of the Republic. It was a world which was subjugated.  
I wasn’t at the event myself, but I have studied the specifics from various post-battle reports and footage. I can grant you an approximate vector for where to fly, Vette, based on memory. At least I would be willing to assume that Decimus is aspiring to emulate this design.

“Phew. Glad we got an imp expert.”

Their pilot simulates the trajectory she’s given and fortunately, everything proceeds smoothly. None of the other stealth ships are the wiser. Jov nods appreciatively in his direction.  
“Nice call, big guy.  
Torian, you reckon there’s any chance in hell we can penetrate those shields of his with what we’ve got going?”

The younger man clicks some of the options on his display and checks the details before he voices his opinion.  
“Not sure if that’d be smart or viable, ner vod. Current line of sight isn’t optimal. Maybe if we can track down a weak point. Exploit it.”

“Since I am monitoring the scanners, I shall see what I can glean for you, mister Cadera”, says Ayzera.

Lastly, Jov decides to turn towards their other two Force users. It’s time to let them in on a few crucial components too.  
“By the way – Ktila, Jaesa, we’re probably gonna be hit a couple of times soon, so you better be mentally ready or whatever you’re doing over there.”

“Thanks for the heads up”, Ktila states placidly. “We’ll do our utmost to stay calm.  
However, you should know this prior to throwing us into the flames – this technique will not barricade us from every blast. All it can truly do is mitigate some of the damage.”

“Don’t get reckless – got it.”  
Once battle is nearly at hand, they notice another transition among the squadron – every ship begins to activate their stealth generators, almost in sync. Jov rubs a hesitant hand over her forehead, knowing that the catastrophic descent may now truly kick off. But who knows? Perhaps a miracle will present itself. A long shot, but…  
“A’ight, this is it. Now or never. Gault, you got the switch?”

“Mhm. Almost taunting me under my thumb, champ.”

“Smash that thing. Let’s hope it doesn’t fry us right off the bat.”

Luckily, the first few seconds are serene and undaunted, fused with a mesmerizing demonstration. Once the generator starts up, they seemingly phase out of normal view, with a large proportion of the lights and surroundings adapting to this separate mode. Gives them a vibe of being underwater. Unfortunately, it swiftly becomes abundantly clear that they’re not in a perfect state.  
“Heat levels = Rising alarmingly fast”, T7 reports in. “Generator = Has not been configured for activation yet.”

Jov pinches her nose, trying to suppress any and all of her mounting concerns.  
“Can you do anything to slow the damage? We just need to keep rolling for a lil’ while.”

“T7 = Will do everything within abilities’ limits. // Fluctuating data + No prior test results = Cannot promise timetable estimates.”

Eventually, after no more than a few minutes of floating through the emptiness of open space, they burst into the awaiting disarray of space battle. Immediately, they search for appropriate targets, even if that will hurt. All of it is done in order to maintain their disguise, to prevent Decimus from suspecting anything. In the heat of this turmoil, Jov suddenly gains a shred of understanding how rough it must’ve been for Cierah sometimes, to constantly linger in the shadows, but never letting your enemy know when the blade will come forth.

A suboptimal situation soon emerges, as the Prowling Nexu itself becomes the root cause of some trouble for the stealth fleet. Their generator simply cannot handle this pressure any longer and just shatters. The bridge crew notices a distant explosion, as it overloads and stealth breaks. Thankfully, T7 notifies them of Blizz’s and his own conscious statuses.  
Seconds after, Decimus’ voice blares over the comm.  
“What in the-…Prowling Nexu, what is the meaning of this? Reactivate your stealth mode this instant!”

Scourge and Jov shares a perturbed glance, and the former resumes his previous role.  
“We…have encountered some complications, my lord. We shall endeavor to-“

“Deal with it now! You’re compromising our entire attack!”

“Oh no, wouldn’t want that to happen”, Jov mutters to herself.  
However, any recovery efforts are completely in vain. Vessels flying Sith Empire banners have spotted their approach and cannons are gradually turning towards their bearing, promptly firing at the sight of their vision.  
“Shit. Evasive maneuvers!”

“Yeah, I’m on it!”, Vette replies, desperately veering out of the incoming lights’ trajectory and breaking formation in the process, but they really have a lot of people’s attention at this stage. The only fortuitous element is that Decimus does not abandon them, for instead he steps in to assist.

“Stealth squadron, counterattack! Target the cruisers!”

The team decides to join this disorder too, taking a few potshots at anyone within range. The Nexu does cause a measure of trouble for the ‘enemy’, but the stealth units, compared to their designated plan, are the ones who get divided and routed. In a bid at recuperating their losses, they utilize the locations of their allies, slip behind them and try to reinitiate the stealth engines.

After the first few successful barrages, the Nexu takes some heavy hits and they’re not doing particularly well on their own. The whole ship shudders and rattles with every major blast, the lights flicker and Jov notes how a fire starts in the back, which she grabs an extinguisher to snuff out.  
“Yo, Vette, Mako, anybody! What’s going on? I said ‘evasive’, not ‘chow down on every stray bullet like a juicy piece of steak’.”

“Oh yeah, real helpful, schutta!”, Vette shouts sarcastically. “Mind telling me a little bit more specifically what-“ She’s interrupted by another shot. “…never mind, I need to concentrate!”

“The shields are pretty toasted here, as far as I can see. Not much I can do, I’m afraid”, Gault announces.

Mako weighs in with more digestible intel.  
“The overloaded generator is affecting the other systems! Everything else is slowing down and it doesn’t have time to compensate. Oh, and, you know, every freaking ship in the neighborhood wants to take a big chunk out of us!”

Jov is really starting to feel the mental burden of this assault too – the stress, the anxiety, the constant flux of options that she needs to weed through and sift out what’s usable.  
And to make matters worse, she hears a pained yelp from Jaesa, as the Sith Lord is forced to lean over, using her arm to hinder the fall. Ktila is not unaffected either, as she looks equally haunted by a mental strain.

“You two alright over there?”, Jov inquires.

“W-we…we’re trying to reinforce the breaches and…seal all sections of the ship”, Jaesa struggles to say, “but it’s becoming…painful.”

“Fuck. Alright, Vette, reverse this ship!”

Vette’s gaze is speeding across the path ahead, attempting to read the alterations of the imagined road, so that she can avert any crashes, but it is getting persistently more arduous.  
“To where? I can’t just fly it in any direction. There’s fire everywhere!”

“Find a ship to hide behind, dammit! We can’t stay in the open!”

They locate a largely undamaged New imperial frigate, which they should be able to make use of to lick their wounds, at least for a short while. Jov doesn’t even need to issue a status report, as Torian already has some input.  
“Lost all cannons on the port side, one on starboard, plus the turbo laser. Still got missiles, but those are a bit overkill.”

Jov wipes some sweat off her brow. This is more gut-wrenching than she had anticipated.  
“Yeah, but we might need ‘em if this keeps up. Scourge, I think you gotta-“

Her order, whatever it aims to be, is intercepted by an incoming message, which plays whether they wish to receive it or not. Interestingly, it is not from Decimus, nor any New Empire vessel, but a ship from the Sith Empire’s fleet.  
They suddenly hear a booming, adamant and fearsome voice, which most of them instantly recognize.

“Ships and crews of the New Empire, this is Darth Marr of the Dark Council. Your condition is growing dire and your numbers are falling at an accelerating rate. Your attack is being neutralized and we will not waver from vaporizing all of you. But you have a choice.  
Deactivate your weapons and surrender. We will allow any crews that comply with our demand to live and be returned to imperial custody. Resist and we will annihilate you, without hesitation.”

The team is not just surprised by the fact that this message managed to penetrate their network, but the individual behind it as well.  
“What the-…Marr is on this battlefield?”, asks Jov, though rhetorically.

Scourge strokes the bearded tendrils around his mouth.  
“Hmm. Either he’s performing an exceedingly clever move, or this system is more imperative to the Empire than we may have assumed.”

“Okay, so, what do we do?”, asks Vette.  
  
Gault is the first to vocalize an opinion.  
“Uh, champ? Not to be a buzzkill, but retreating sounds like the smarter whim right now, don’t you agree?”

If he had hoped to gain her assent, he’s sorely mistaken, for she has the opposite reaction.  
“No, that won’t-…wait, Mako, can you open a channel to ‘im?”

The slicer, along with a few others, blink and shift to her confusedly.  
“What?”

“You know, pierce their comms and get me straight to Marr.”

“Uhh…sure, it’s a cakewalk, but is that a good idea? He’s got no idea we’re at this party.”

“Well, the way I see it, either we stay quiet and botch this fucking mission, or we reach out and get those slackers over there to do us a favor for once.”

Skepticism is the most explicit reaction to her suggestion, but none try to protest.  
“You’re the boss”, Mako concedes after a shrug.

It takes no more than seconds for Mako to produce a channel and bridge the gap, conjuring a hologram from the vessel where the Sith presides from. Marr, fully adorned in his imposing and spiky armor, looks at Jov like a towering monolith, an unyielding bulwark, which she cannot read due to the mask.  
“Who is this? Speak, or you will suffer for this intrusion.”

As there’s no more time for plays or acts, Jov gets in front of the transmitter and places her hands at her hips.  
“Yo, Marr. I’m Jovana Vlasic, working for Darth Imperius.”

“Imperius? Impossible. She has no hand in this battle. And my personnel alerted me that you are operating from a stealth ship.”

“Yeah, long story. We’re on a covert mission, actually. Gonna kill Decimus.”

Marr is momentarily silenced by this fact, trying to consider the implications.  
“He’s here?”

“Scurrying near the back right about now. We’re tryna squash the son of a hutt.”

“And you say Imperius ordered this strike?”

“Yup, in secret. Got former Jedi Master Ktila, Lord Jaesa Willsaam and a bunch of others with me.”

“Hmm. If your intent is to kill him, it would seem you have not done an adequate job of it.”

Jov frowns and flashes a rude hand sign in retort.  
“Hey, I didn’t ask for your fucking criticism, asshole. Yeah, we ran into a few hiccups along the way, but we’re dealing with it. You’re welcome for the upper hand, by the by. We shut off our generator.”

A lie, but he doesn’t have to know that. Hopefully, Sith aren’t good at reading facial cues.  
“You have still been firing upon our crafts.”

“Yeah, to preserve the cover. But now need your help.  
We’ve lost a couple of our guns and Decimus is in a better state than we are. Could use a hand with snaring the lil’ shit. You could try to shoot ‘im down, but that might not work. My team and I are ready to board his ship, if there’s an opportunity. We’ve got the best players and gear, I’ll guarantee it. If we synchronize our positions, you can give us an angle.  
We’ll give you the coordinates to his rustbucket. You fire on his ass, while we fly close, get the shields down and dock with ‘em before they flee. Sound good?”

Silence from the Dark Lord once more, as he runs the proposition through his head and folds his arms.  
“Not an implausible effort, but if you cripple their progress, we could simply obliterate him from here.”

“You mean with us on board? No thanks. Besides, that’s his flagship, pal. The computers on it might be filled with all kinds of critical data.”

Marr is evidently thoroughly reluctant to jump at this ploy without sufficient assurances, but it seems he’s not entirely adverse to risks.  
“Very well, we will collaborate. But this will jeopardize our defensive line somewhat, so you must act with haste. One chance, that is all we will part with.”

“All we need, big guy.”

After cutting off the channel, they alter course, lock their sights and united, the stealth ship follows Marr’s dreadnought, along with a few corvettes. Thanks to the team’s input, Marr’s cannons can hunt down and chase Decimus out from his hole. The plan proceeds accordingly, and the Prowling Nexu’s vector is tweaked to get right in Decimus’ way, without actually conveying their status. They pretend to appear as if they’re fleeing too.

Soon enough, Marr’s ships blast Decimus’ position explicitly, moderately destabilizing the traitors’ integrity.  
“That’s our ticket. Seize the gap, Vette”, Jov commands.

They fly exceptionally close, too near for comfort, and before Decimus makes a break for it, they have already affixed themselves onto the docking port and sealed it shut.  
Mako aims a smirk towards Jov.  
“Well, lookie here – guess who’s trying to contact us?”

“Don’t answer.” She lowers her hand and grabs a blaster pistol from her belt. Clicking the button for the burst firing mode, the weapon emits a sharp ping as it starts up and gets primed.  
“Okay, off to the races people! Load your guns, prep your detonators and polish those lightsabers. Time to go get ourselves the head of an ex-Dark Councilor.”


	67. Corellian whiskey (part 04)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hey, it's been a while. Do I even remember how to write these characters anymore? We'll see._   
>  _This one was drafted a couple of months ago, though._   
>  _I play a little fast and loose with the rules of hyperspace travel here or perhaps even the laws of physics, but I hope that won't matter too much_

_Soft and long bent straws of grass in a sprawling field, consistently nudged by the prevalent presence of a tender wind, gingerly stirring their otherwise unchanged reality. No large animals currently infringe on their territory and only the distant melody of the iwan-beetle affects the aural senses. Accompanying these leisurely aspects is the penetrative light of the sun, giving life and warmth in unison. For a region like this, in the outskirts of a medium-sized town located on the world of Corellia, not too far from a small cluster of buildings, it is a fairly ordinary set of conditions, which they see on a regular basis with the lapsing of seasons. Doesn’t make it any less pleasant, though, of course._

_This serene and picturesque vision is soon interrupted by a sharp sound, a raspy collection of coughs, almost violently trying to expunge an intrusive substance. This break in silence derives from a young dark-blue skinned woman, with shoulder-length blue hair, red eyes and loose selection of basil green clothes, who’s sitting with her legs crossed in the center of the grass patch. In her hand is a plain round glass, holding a translucent bronze-colored liquid. Some of it was poured down her throat and though it stays, it’s not gentle._

_The difficulty is due to the biting and burning of the liquid’s potency, which is somewhat insidious, because of the delayed reaction. A mild sting had revealed itself at first, which then increased by several degrees the further down into the depths it journeyed. The young woman does not have the relevant experience or pain threshold necessary to completely resist. It is why the cough erupts, as she’s low-key scared that she’s going to choke, though no such horror occurs, naturally. She’s using her arm as partial shielding, as to not expel any spit at the one sitting in her vicinity, while simultaneously doing her utmost to not drop the glass._

_The person on the opposite end, an old human with a medium brown complexion, sporting an assortment of wrinkles, aged features and grey hair in a long ponytail, emits a warm laughter. It’s not so much to mock the teenager, as just finding the reaction somewhat comical. She has her own drink, which she holds over the thigh of one leg, but she handles it with far more delicacy and seasoned efficiency, facts which the young woman has yet to build. One day, perhaps._

_Once the student recovers, the master speaks._  
_“Perhaps a little too spicy for your first glass of Corellian whiskey, hm?”, she posits with thinly veiled humor._

 _The back of the chiss’ hand lingers over her mouth for a few more seconds, ascertaining whether she can keep it down. Luckily, she senses no convulsion and therefore frees her lungs._  
_“…a little.”_

_“I did tell you that it wouldn’t be a pleasant initial wave, Ktila.”_

_“I know, I just…wanted to give it a try. Curiosity, I guess.” As she idly spins the glass in her hand, she lowers it to her legs and turns her eyes towards the human._  
_“Do you drink this…questionable beverage very often, master Kaandre?”_

 _The Jedi Master makes the slightest move of her container, a light twirl, setting the drink into a miniature storm, until it evens out and merely whirls inside. Ktila isn’t sure whether it’s a simple habitual flick or if it might contain the secret to abating the flavor. Either way, she attempts to subtly imitate her master._  
_“No, not very often. It’s not really that type of drink. I imagine most would say it’s exclusively for special occasions, if you have something to celebrate. I tend to gravitate towards liquor that goes on a smoother ride.” She shifts her green gaze to her student. “But it’s probably for the best if you do not reveal this fact to anyone within the Tython Order.”_

_“Why?”_

_“They have certain restrictions and frown upon the consumption of this stuff. You wouldn’t make a very good first impression if you start telling people that you’ve been drinking with those green scoundrels over at Corellia”, she explains, with a joking tune at the end._

_Ktila tears her eyes down to the insides of the glass again._  
_“Guess I can’t entirely blame them, now that I’ve had a sip. Not sure how much I’ll have of this in the future…”_

_“Hah! Don’t let this one dissuade you, dear. There are all kinds of liquor that are much easier on the throat, but I figured something special was in order for this very unique occasion.”_

_Ktila flashes a faint smile and inclines her head._  
_“Suppose you’re right. If nothing else, I admit that it was nice to gain the experience. You’d think everyone would want to at least test their limits.”_

_“Agreed, but the Jedi High Council is…stricter in this regard, let’s say. They’d rather embrace abstinence - which only works so far, I’ve always believed.”_

_Tilting her nose to the edge, Ktila sniffs the drink a little, even if she can’t say that she has acclimatized to its bite just yet, based on the shudder it incites. Perhaps it’ll take her a while._  
_“Why do people create these types of beverages in the first place, master? Getting intoxicated and purposefully hurting yourself seems like an odd desire.”_

 _The warmth of Kaandre’s expression rematerializes._  
_“Well, as a matter of fact, there are numerous reasons. Many like the challenge, the buzz, or just enjoy the taste.”_

_“…truly?”_

_“Not everyone shares your palate, my dear.”_

_“I guess…”_

_Kaandre lifts the see-through cylinder, letting the rays of the sun better penetrate and glisten in the interior, exposing the fluctuating nature of the liquid._  
_“Society now is very different from how it used to be, though. Once upon a time, this drink had a more prestigious significance, where permission to imbibe it was controlled.”_

_“Wait, they had detailed laws for alcohol?”_

_“Well, yes, but not in this case. This was more like an unspoken rule, for ceremonial purposes. It was only partaken under a few specific situations – marriage, your children’s coming of age and the day succeeding a battle explicitly pertaining to revenge.”_

_The second category causes a brief and joyous twitch of Ktila’s lips, due to the suitability of the event, but this transitions into inquisitiveness._  
_“That’s a bit silly distinction. They really cited revenge?”_

_“Very much so. Clashes between various houses and clans back then could be…intense, albeit not overly destructive. They enjoyed the rivalry more than the fighting itself.”_

_Ktila nods with awareness._  
_“I’ve studied some of Corellia’s history in our libraries. It was very fascinating, but I hope I’ll never do something like that.”_

 _A solemn wave descends over Kaandre’s features, as she brings her glass back down._  
_“Neither do I. Vengeance can be a…convoluted notion. It hurts you as much as your enemy, clouds your judgment and makes you perform grievous mistakes. I would suggest you stay away from such things, Ktila. You are a fine spirit, a noble one. You will find a better way and I’m confident you’ll be a positive influence on the Tython Order, now that you’re making the trip over there.”_

_She raises her hand up to her student’s cheek and caresses it gently, making the chiss smile. Some small nugget within Ktila wishes this day would never end._

* * *

  
Ktila’s temporary reverie breaks in a swift swelling of commotion, a barely noticeable tremor in the ground, which sends her jolting back to reality. With her renewed cognizance, she now notes that the span to the bridge doors is shrinking and they’ve made pretty decent time, but she can no longer lose focus. It’s only she and Jovana here now and the mandalorian will definitely require Ktila to be fit for fighting. Her face hardens and gets mentally ready for the assault.

They’ve had a few brisk confrontations up until this instant, but they’ve skillfully managed to bypass them all, letting their team handle the majority of the rabble. This is the focal point of everything, where victory or annihilation shall be achieved.  
Upon approach, Ktila notices the door’s status.  
“It’s locked. If you give me some space and time, I should be able to break it open with the Force. Might be cumbersome, but if I concentrate…”

Thankfully, such considerations are impractical. Jov taps her shoulder and holds up an object in her hand – an explosive charge.  
“Cute plan, but why don’t you step back and lemme handle this bad boy, huh?”

Ktila arches a puzzled brow, but does as Jov bids her. She moves to a safer distance, tens of meters away, as the human attaches the charge onto center of the blast doors. She tweaks its position, primes and then activates her jetpack to hurl herself out of range. As it blows, smoke and metal fragments fly in all directions, but Ktila summons a small Force barrier to protect them both from stray pieces. Once it all settles, the door is revealed to have yielded and the interior of the command center is exposed.

In the remnant cloud of smoke and debris, Ktila and Jov both step through, with blasters and lightsabers in hand, coming into full view of the bridge crew. Unsurprisingly, there are collections of imperials everywhere, sitting or standing behind the various stations, but they are virtually insignificant. In these circumstances, chief of the noteworthy individuals are those at the back.

One of them, the tallest of everyone gathered, is facing the front windows with arms behind his back. In his vicinity linger three discrete guards of some variety, but not New Imperial Guards, nor typical troopers.  
“And so, you come”, the leader states calmly. “I must admit, I had expected the Empire’s blade to slip past our armor sooner or later, that Marr would employ some foolhardy plan as he is wont to do. But this is certainly a…peculiar option.”  
He gradually rotates to regard them, and the pale face, red eyes, scarlet facial tattoos and visible cybernetic implants are all familiar elements – Darth Decimus. He looks more contemplative than glib. For some unknown reason, he is garbed in a long and sweeping cloak, which covers his whole body.  
“To think that I would be confronted with two returning visions, it is almost…nostalgic. How long has it been since our encounters on Corellia? A few years now, if I’m not mistaken.” As his eyes drift to Jov, he appears particularly disappointed.  
“Jovana Vlasic. Is this the fleeting nature of you pitiful bounty hunters? One day you work with us, the next, you steer sights against your former employers.”

Jov snorts unimpressively.  
“That’s just how the cookie crumbles, pal. And don’t give me that crap – last I checked, I worked for the Empire, not you specifically. What we did was merely some moonlighting in between my gig with Tormen.”

“Who you later unceremoniously destroyed”, he adds.

With no regret or remorse, Jov flashes a small and pleased grin.  
“You betcha."

“And now you intend to come for my head, is that it?”

“Basically.”

He slowly shakes his head.  
“You are a despicable creature, without honor.”

“Honor? Don’t think our metrics merge, asswipe. I don’t try to put a bolt to my people’s head outta nowhere.”

To interrupt their squabbling, Ktila starts up one of her lightsabers and aims it in Decimus' direction, though they are still several meters away from the main platform.  
“Your time is over, Decimus. I have come to end your reign of terror and punish you for your crimes, once and for all. Today, you will not escape.”

The Sith lord’s expression alters, gaining some intrigued components instead.  
“Jedi Supreme Commander Ktila, the Hero of Tython. We clashed on that world at least once. Such unfortunate circumstances, and yet I remember it fondly. Don’t you?”

She frowns.  
“Which you ran from.”

“I made a tactical retreat. That is how one survives, Jedi.”

“Your attacks killed millions of innocents, upheaved CorSec, laid waste to much of Coronet City, levelled approximately all of the Green Jedi enclave and usurped its legally elected government.”

For every accusation flung, Decimus’ mood seems to swing for the better, his lips forming a smirk.  
“If you are trying to create enriching memories for me, master Ktila, you are truly excelling.”

Her stance tightens, her mind almost seething with rage and resentment. She tries to stay in control, but finally, everything is coming back to her, all of the sorrow and demolished memories. The people she will never see again. Just looking at him spurs an impact she hadn’t anticipated.  
“Well, there will be no retreating today”, she nearly spits. “Justice has finally come for you, Decimus and I will end you personally.”

“Hah. Justice, you say? Would this be the policy of the Republic…or the Empire’s adaption of it?  
I cannot help but notice that the colors of your heart does not reflect the Jedi Order, but the Sith. An ironic twist, isn’t it?”

“The only one twisted here is you. For what you did at Corellia, you _will_ pay. Too many tortured souls await retribution for this to end any other way.”

“A curious frame of mind coming from a woman in your position. There are many more who committed heinous crimes in that campaign, including the hunter who you stand beside.”

Jov doesn’t even flinch with this insinuation, and Ktila briefly glances at her, but doesn’t let such distractions reach her resolve.  
“I know she was present and although she may have conducted distinct actions that I cannot condone, it was out of desperation. She was being targeted by the Republic’s leadership, for crimes she hadn’t perpetrated.”

The mandalorian coughs and makes an addendum.  
“Sort of.”

“But you…you presided over the fighting, Decimus. You carry the main responsibility and your sentence is still pending.”

Decimus continues to study her, gauging her words and the tone of her allegations. They do carry a lot of weight and truth.  
“And in intruding upon my domain, you seek vengeance, hm? How very…un-Jedi of you.”

“I’m not here as a Jedi, but a Corellian. You wounded my people, wreaked havoc upon my home. I’m going to offer you the same lack of mercy as you did for them.”

Following these blatant threats tossed back and forth, one of the guards at the side intervenes.  
“Are you two fucking done or what? You’re like windbags with too much air. It’s grating to listen to this shit. Do Sith and Jedi both let all this preamble get in between the fighting, or is it just you? Let’s get to the action already.”

The impudent comment originates from a set of speakers embedded on a helmet. All of the other three throw glances in his direction, but Jov exhibits the most avid interest. He unquestionably doesn’t have the simulacrum of a regular trooper, unless he’s the off-brand type.  
“Hold a sec”, she utters offhand. The logos on his armor, she has spotted them before. “You’re mandalorian.”

The man spins his pistol around in one finger, demonstrating his deft capabilities and motoric skills.  
“Got some keen eyes after all, huh? Name’s Jindo Krey. Emperor Malgus asked me to tag along on this mission and get some real combat done for once, but that never happened when you guys botched it. Now that you’re here, however, we can rectify this problem. Seems glory had another plan. Never figured I’d get to butt heads with the Grand Champion herself, but that’s just a bonus.”

Jov furrows her brow as she stares into his visor, shortly prior to stepping away from her partner.  
“This one’s mine. Do whatever the fuck with asscowl over there.”

“What?”, asks the chiss. “But they’re three. I don’t think that’s-“

“Mando business, Jedi. Stay out of it.”

Her tone is decisive, single-minded. She will not abide disagreements. Ktila tries to accept that she’ll not be fighting side by side and adapt to this new ordeal. She has fought him before and she can repeat her success. Hopefully.  
As Decimus launches his approach and walks down the stairs, Ktila is moderately confused. Not only is he more sluggish, but he looks a little different. His body is indisputably bulkier, heavier even, and there’s a noticeable shiver in the ground, as the floor vibrates a bit. Has he installed new and expanded cybernetics or is he wearing additional layers of armor?

“I suppose I shall have to dispose of you then, Supreme Commander. It pleases me that we have this second chance at determining the superior duelist. I shall endeavor to make your end as…extensive and excruciating as possible. I wish to taste every exquisite trace of despair.”

Ktila switches on her green lightsaber as well, holding the pair at one side each.  
“If I had a credit for every Sith who’s ever chucked that nonsense at me.”

She doesn’t know if it’s for the theatrical facet of it or not, but Decimus now unhurriedly, almost tantalizingly begins removing the cloak, unclasping and letting it plummet to the ground. Beneath it, he unveils a thick, robust and nigh awkwardly large armor. While protection of this class is usually depicted as flat and sturdy plates, this one is more like a selection of grids and chains, with a few sparsely placed lights in red or white. It covers virtually every section of his body, barring the face. He clenches his fist and instantly triggers some kind of mechanism, which distributes small ripples across the surface of the grid.  
After this action is performed, he aims his eyes towards his ship’s navigator.

“Take us into hyperspace.”

Ktila widen her eyes.  
“What are you doing?”

The crew all around the room shares her shock, in fact.  
“Uh, but…my lord, this would be exceedingly risky while we have a ship docked with us. You need specially designed equipment to dampen any potential damage that-“

“Stop stalling and do it”, he orders in an impatient voice.

“…y-yes, my lord!”

Suddenly, the landscape outside the windows transforms and they are plunged straight into the stream of energy that is hyperspace. The entire ship trembles and rattles, some of the hull nearly beginning to budge under the incredible pressure of having a tagalong ship clinging to its hide, but in an unsecured fashion. Momentarily, the floor quakes so ferociously that it becomes difficult to stay standing, but everyone regains their balance. Decimus hardly even seemed to falter, conceivably due to his gear’s capacity.

“…you’re mad”, says Ktila.

“On the contrary, all I do is calculated, Jedi. Soon, you will see.”

He draws his own weapon, a brilliant red stream and strides towards Ktila. He does not delay the inevitable and raises his blade into the air, only for it to coming boring down on top of his foe. Ktila retains the steadfast demeanor and doesn’t flee. She blocks his attack with both lightsabers, though the collision really allows her to feel how heavy his blows are. She practically loses her foothold, but chooses not to stay in one position for too long.

Having rolled away from it, she tries to go another route, spinning into one of his flanks. Her weapons whirl forward like two deadly blaster bolts, though he doesn’t merely block every strike, but promptly counterattacks, facilitating an exchange of a few slashes. His defenses are quite impressively honed and he’s exceptionally strong, more so than she might’ve anticipated. Is the armor enhancing him in that regard or has she just forgotten what it was like to endure his swings?

She uses what advantage she possesses, her speed, hoping to circumvent his moves and get past the lightsaber. Last time they fought back on her homeworld, she recalls that she managed to singe him, while she remained largely unharmed. A replication would be favorable.  
Following a sloppy overshot from the Sith, she glides under his arm and retrieves a perfect line of sight towards his side, which she obviously stabs into.

However, to her bewilderment, as the solid laser collides with the body, it does not penetrate the hardened shell. It’s like she slams right into an impassable wall of energy. How is that possible? Does it have a personal shield?  
He flaunts a small smirk at her stunned state. He’s ecstatic to see how close she has gotten, and she cannot avoid what’s coming. He steadies his free arm, angles it perfectly and lets it take off.

His large and shut fist hits her in the abdomen with haste and precision, a flawless gut punch. At equal rate with the pain, she detects how her feet lifts off the ground and she tumbles through the air like a ragdoll, bursting out into the corridor she previously came from and bounces hard on the floor. He pursues her.

**

In the meanwhile, the mandalorians scuffle in the center. As soon as the two Force users start their duel, three sets of blasters lock into her and fires, forcing her to sprint behind cover. They’re not so foolish as to do nothing but keep firing from the same spots, though, and endeavors to hunt her down like prey. Fortunately, Jov is no harmless quarry.  
After she has discerned that the imperial personnel has hidden, definitely not wanting to be embroiled in this insanity, she preps a tool to retaliate.

She bides her time, unleashing a couple of shots in return, but once she sees that they’ve entered favorable locations, she tosses a flash grenade into the open. The sole caveat, which she doesn’t relay to the other mandos, is that she never primed it.  
“Shield your eyes!”, Jindo yells obliviously. Just the kind of opportunity she needs.

As all three hide their faces from the eruption that never comes, Jov leaps out from her shelter. She quickly guns down the other two, but never reaches Jindo. Instead of blasting her, he tosses himself into the fray, tackling her to the floor. Their guns scatter in either direction, while the duo wrestles on the ground. No one comes out as the victor, as Jov ends up driving her foot into his chest and kicks him off.

Neither of them tarries, getting back on their feet via curved flips. Jindo huffs under his helmet.  
“Neat trick.”

She combines a sneer and a smile for him.  
“It’s the dumbass test. See if they actually watch that it’s been triggered or not. Your buddies clearly failed.”

“Psh. You are the champ, I guess.”

His hand cuts to another holster, a sheath holding a vibrodagger, which he pulls out shortly prior lunging into her once again. The dagger’s edge is shoved towards her chest, but she ducks, knees him in the abdomen and kicks his flank, pushing him back. She can potentially make a break for the gun, but that is not what honor demands. With a million tactics darting around in her head, she casually grabs the hilt of her own vibrodagger, tosses it up in the air and lets it spin. Upon descent, it lands spotlessly in her fingers.

“This is how you wanna go, Krey? Fine, let’s knife it out.”

**

Every fiber of Ktila’s being shudders as she attempts to rise from her fallen, rather ungraceful spot. Her body aches, every pore practically screaming from that blow and the subsequent crash. She almost wishes to throw up, but manages to fight the impulse. Using her mind to call the weapons into her grasp, she hoists herself back on her feet with much effort.  
It goes without saying, but Decimus has not faltered one bit and filled with overflowing conviction, his walking speed is composed. The hefty boots and the mass of this gigantic setup makes the ground nearly buckle. Ktila backs off, relocating to the previous room, as she doesn’t wish to get boxed in within this tunnel.

Pending an abridged journey, Ktila catches more shakes and shivers from the ship, creaking under the pressure still. This vessel and the Prowling Nexu are holding together, but this is not a viable condition. Sooner or later, something will collapse.  
“Did you relish the opportunity of becoming the test subject for my newest equipment, Jedi? A little sample of tech I acquired from the Sphere of Technology, preceding my departure. The Exoskeleton Vibro-suit is a masterpiece of defensive engineering, don’t you agree?”

Ktila opens her mouth, but her voice is intercepted by a painful surge, compelling her to cough vigorously to begin with.  
“Can’t even build your own toys, huh? Figures.”

“Why build, when you can conquer?  
It is fully impervious to meager weapons like your lightsabers, which restricts your options. Surrender and accept your fate. Or if your stubborn sense of pride will not relent, you may persist and let me wallow in the gleeful pleasure of watching you suffer, the vestiges of your optimism being crushed, bit by bit.”

With no other alternative than to fight, Ktila pushes herself to suppress the agony, trying to remain unyielding.  
“If you believe the impossible can break a Jedi’s spirit, you don’t know us very well.”

“Don’t be foolish – I am keenly familiar with your doggedness. I’ve always admired that tenacity. So magnificently easy to exploit.”

He comes rushing aloft once more, cutting at her with an overhead strike. Facing it head on is not beneficial in this weakened scenario, which is why she throws herself to the ground and rolls sideways. He takes a shot at harrying her, the lightsaber virtually roaring as it misses her each time, for she is too fast. The point of this exercise is obviously not simply to outrun, but outwit, spy for weaknesses. Sadly, all she can discern is a nigh all-encompassing barrier of solid steel, or whatever it is. He called it a vibro suit? That would explain why she couldn’t puncture it with a jab dead center.

As the distance between them grows, he uses the Force to tear a console from the wall, hurling it at her location, but she employs her own abilities to jump and spin over it in an elegant twirl. Her landing is smooth, but she hear a racket from above. Peering up, she notes how Decimus has ripped a number of pipes from their designated posts and the entire bundle drops onto her. She showcase her meticulous accuracy, by slicing every single one apart.

His attempts at unbalancing her are effective, but she still has to steer her thoughts at a constructive conclusion of this battle. The field of vibro energy stretching across his body, is that really holistic? That seems impossible. Did the Empire honestly build something like this, or was it reverse-engineered from another civilization? Gree or Rakata, perhaps. Either way, the prospect is patchy and hazardous. Could it be a prototype? If so, it has to have flaws.

A physical investigation must be enacted. She utilizes the Force, suspending a multitude of objects into the air that now lie scattered on the ground, lobbing them at his resilient pose. He merely ignores the majority, as he treads back into her vicinity. As each item hits the surface of the gear, it does kind of appear to get deflected, like a vibroblade might parry, and jerk away.  
The lightsaber is one of, if not the top lethal infantry weapons in this galaxy, able to carve next to any physical material into neat pieces. If anything can track a gap somewhere in this compact mess that he has not yet seen fit to seal, it carries that aptitude. Alternatively, carve a new one.

Once he’s done playing around, he resumes his melee-range approach, but she dodges and sprints away, establishing some distance. This is not the ideal occasion for rumination, but she must stop, focus on the Force. It has to have some insight for her.  
She disappears for but a few fleeting seconds, but it grants her the crucial introspection she requires in this roiling disarray.

At first, she hears her master’s voice, Orgus Din, the old plain and pragmatic advices he dispensed with and while that may be uplifting, it does not bolster her chances. No, she must dig deeper.  
Finally, it is Kaandre’s voice, from ages past, which soothes her ailing heart. She remembers the rhythmic murmur of the sea, rough texture of the rocks at her bare feet, the sweet scent of argoranni flowers…  
_“Nothing in this galaxy is invincible, Ktila. Everything falters, withers with time or pressure. All it needs is the right vector; or the wrong one, depending on your point of view.”_  
And she should know, right? Ktila saw the list of casualties from the battle in the Coronet City enclave. It’s…

There. Her eyes shoot open as she finds the trail, a gap somewhere beneath his left arm. Not grand, by any stretch, but if she can puncture it with the tip of her lightsaber, perhaps she can widen it into a proper breach.  
She decides to select this maneuver and veering around, she leaps up onto some consoles, comes fully into view of her foe and dashes at him with an aerial strike. His face is partially unprotected, which is one avenue she could pursue to bring him down, but it is too early for a victory to be achieved. He blocks her, undaunted.

Success in this venture was never her intent anyway, and after channeling a thin coat of Force energy onto her feet, she stomps on his shoulders and vaults over him, landing right behind him. As she turns around, she lashes at him like a raging hurricane, which his delayed defenses can barely keep up with, but due to the perceived impenetrability, little to no damage is sustained. He gains chances for reprisal, but end up being paltry.

“You are clever and adamant, Jedi, I will give you that. Had you joined us, consider the great things we could have accomplished together.”

“Sorry, destroying planets and enslaving people have never been my hobbies.”

“A pity.”

In the wake of swirling past another swish, she alters the trajectory of her green lightsaber and stalks the splinter with her eyes. She can’t lock onto it, but it doesn’t matter. Use feeling, instinct.  
The blade darts forth like a missile and burrows itself into the fissure. Alas, despite the velocity and accuracy exerted, it doesn’t fully have the intended effect. It does slither inside, but while she had hoped to yank open a chasm, it instead gets lodged in there. In desperation, she hedges her bets and pulls at the hilt, but it’s too late.

The smartest course of action here would’ve been to simply abandon the weapon, but with Ktila so susceptible to an attack, Decimus outmaneuvers her. One of his reinforced hands seizes her wrist and without any noticeable problem, heaves her into the air, letting her dangle helplessly. It produces nothing but a chuckle as he watches her wide open stance.  
“Well well, what a clever little rat. Not clever enough, evidently. You really thought a monument of our Empire’s glory could fall to one miserable lightsaber? What tenuous intelligence you possess.”

“Let me go, you bastard!”

“Defiant, even in defeat. Well, let’s test how long you can conserve this stockpile of bravery, shall we?”  
Agonizingly slow, he begins to clench his fingers around her wrist, putting on an overbearing pressure, straining the stability of the bones within. It is gradually breaking, which he could doubtlessly fulfill in a moment’s notice, but he wishes to savor this victory. The torment generates groans and soon slight screams that she cannot stifle.  
“Such lovely noises”, he professes casually. “Would that the Republic was this easy to decimate. Perhaps I shall study your crumbling carcass, observe what leverage it will bequeath us for when we finally subjugate them.”

Ktila has not felt so inextricably impotent, so much like a child trapped in the whims of a monster ready to devour her piece by piece, since Vitiate. She abhors it, as her mind aspires to trigger the images of the past, of how very vulnerable she is. She refuses to ever be someone’s plaything again.  
She does still have one trick up her sleeve and even if it’s a foolish choice, it’s unmistakably preferable to death.

She steers her eyes to the visage of the lightsaber still wedged into the little gap. It’s out of reach and attempting to grab it would lead her nowhere. This weapon has been with her for a few years now, being one of the two she once crafted on Tython’s forge. Forsaking it would never be an outcome she would ever consent to, nor would she listen to such advice, unless circumstance demanded it. She has arrived at this crossroad.

She delves into the framework with her mind, past the rigorous exterior and telepathetically connects with the crystal. Its steady and resolute essence provides her with a short-lived concept of safety, of determination, perhaps even approval to proceed. She dearly covets this sentiment at any rate, for this is a finale it does not deserve.

Conjuring as high volumes of sheer power as she can possibly muster, she sends every little sliver of it directly into the crystal, with the intent of overloading it. This is a task she does not really have to worry whether it will prevail or not, for soon, it explodes.  
The blast not merely shatters the device and the crystal within, but also makes the Sith falter, as he drops her and parts of the vibro energy seems to dissipate with the internal damage that the detonation spawns, centered mainly on the upper and left section of his chest. Decimus is staggered, but rises.

**

The sound bursting from the adjacent room is hardly even noticed on the bridge, as Jindo and Jov duking it out produces a cacophony all on their own, though their fight is much more haphazard and discordant, while they administer attacks with both fists and daggers. Jindo is clearly a tad stronger than Jov, but he doesn’t know the same tricks.

They’ve ended up on a table at this moment, with their vibro daggers clattering and endlessly hoping to slice into some flesh. He delivers a punch towards her chest, which she blocks and kicks at his legs, but he skips over it. Jindo makes a full spiraling motion and flips his leg out into its full length to kick her over the ledge, but she barely ducks beneath it, grabs the foot as it passes above her, secures her other hand on it and tosses him off instead, just prior to rolling after him. She tries to stab him in the back, but his rocket boots save him at the last second, flying out of reach.

As she charges in pursuit of him, he whirls towards her and actually loads one of his wrist rockets, being equipped with the same destructive finesse as she is. Applying her own tricks against her isn’t the cleverest of notions, however, and in advance, she ignites her jetpack, flying into the air. As the rocket crashes into the wall, she enables the resulting shockwave to propel her towards him.  
Stretching one of her legs, her foot pummels him straight in the chest, making him plummet in a rather arduous manner to the floor. He may fall, but he doesn’t surrender – instead, he rolls around and trips her over.

She hits the floor with shoulder first and as he heaves his body up, making a bid at straddling and stabbing her, she pops some juice into her flamethrower, aims it straight at his upper body and lets the fire licks his armor. As to not let any of it slip into gaps of his plates, he has no choice but to jump away.  
Constant maneuver after maneuver is taxing, and shortly following Jov getting onto her feet, they both take a breather, letting some space persist in the middle.  
Jov studies the predominantly white armor, with blue highlights - contrasting with her red and white - the stoic black visor that hides his eyes, the many cracks across its surface. He has seen a lot of battle to be sure. It affords her an unnerving supply of discomfort.

“Why the hell would an iron-skin warrior like you fight for Malgus, Krey? You’d oppose your own people?”

He scoffs and amends the position for one of his wristguards.  
“C’mon champ, don’t act like you’re that stupid. We’re mandalorians. We don’t bow to anyone - not the Empire, not the Republic, not the New Empire.”

“Then what the fuck would you call your current shit then, huh?”

“I’m with Malgus because I’m looking for one thing and one thing only – the largest stash of glory. All evidence points to that the New Empire is the best source.”

“Even if it means killing mandalorians?”

He tilts his head and shrugs.  
“That’s just our way of life. Perhaps you haven’t been one of us long enough to get it. This is how it’s been since our dawn – blood, glory and victory, at all costs.  
Not gonna sugarcoat it – I always wanted to get a shot at old Artus. Imagine what’d happen if I defeated the old man – legions would rally behind the might of Clan Krey, with a new wave of mandalorian crusaders.”

The Neo-Crusaders, the great war machines, the hallowed days of old conquest. Jov remembers the first time someone told her and even more, her talks with Artus. Her opinion hasn’t changed since then.  
“Over my dead body, Krey.”

“We’ll see, won’t we? Didn’t know if I’d be ready to knock ‘im out, but I guess if I can blast his favorite kid, I reckon I’ve done some pretty good headway.”

The fires in her heart are once more set ablaze and she beats her fists together.  
“Not in a million years, jackass. Bring it!”, she shouts and dashes at full throttle into him.

**

“A shrewd ploy, chiss, but it falls short”, Decimus declares as he rolls his shoulders. “Unless you mean to sacrifice both of your pathetic toys. If that is your intent, then please, by all means.”

Ktila has to dash backwards, as Decimus seems to be eager to go on the offensive posthaste. And why wouldn’t he? She can distinguish the trace of a tinge of fear in his psyche. She’s getting to him. Would that pure intimidation tactics had been enough.  
Such factors will not solve her issues. One malfunctioning patch won’t cut it, blatantly not without both weapons. She really has to lay into this beast and that requires a better momentum. As the ship throws another tremor at them, Ktila rocks away, out of range.

Just as abruptly as it emerged, an idea jolts into her mind. The ship’s precarious state, can that be tapped into for an advantage?  
She runs away from him once more, which vexes her, but she cannot let impatience hinder her progress. Hiding behind some consoles, she contacts the rest of the crew from her wrist comm unit.  
“Mako? Are you there?”

On the other end, as the slicer triggers her own device, Ktila catches whizzing gunfire. Not just their team that’s still operational then.  
“Sure, yeah, alive and kicking. Why?”

“Are you alright?”

“I mean, that depends how you define it, but by and large. Still fighting a few of their number over here. Did you know they had mandos?”

“Yes, we noticed.”

“…wait, what? You could’ve alerted us about that!”

Ktila sighs and peers out from her cover, seeing that she has to make herself scarce again.  
“This isn’t important. Listen to me, we need to act fast. Can you deactivate the docking clamps?”

The line between them is eerily silent for a few instances, except the constant stream of shots.  
“…excuse me?”

“Can you detach the Prowling Nexu from your current location?”  
With another speck of quiet contemplation, Ktila has to dash away again, not wanting Decimus to get within her proximity, but also preventing him from easily flinging any items at her with his telekinetics.  
“Mako!”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you! But I mean-…yes, that’s absolutely possible, but why the fuck would you wanna do that?”

“I’m dueling Decimus alone, but he has a semi-impenetrable armor. I need this to take him out.”

“Well uh, I’m not saying you can’t, but just so you’re aware – you understand that this may get like…fucking catastrophic, right? We could die. This whole ship could blow up.”

Ktila thinks she’s exaggerating, though the chiss hasn’t actually done the calculations.  
“It has occurred to me.”

“Like, I’m no hyperspace expert or engineer, but I figure that a collision and joint explosion in this super-fast spacetime tunnel isn’t too farfetched.”

“I realize that.”

“Or we might get out of hyperspeed and drift into a star.”

“I’ve factored that in.”

She can’t see it, but Mako pinches her nose from where she’s sitting.  
“…and regardless of freighterloads of danger, you wanna proceed?”

“Yes. I have to do it, Mako. Can you make this happen?”

The slicer exhales from her nose.  
“Can you swear on all the Jedi Code jazz that we’ll make it out alive?”

“You will, if you head towards the escape pods right away.”

“We? What about you and Jovana?”

“We’ll manage.” Probably. “Trust me.”

She catches an item banging into some kind of metallic source, but she isn’t sure if that’s Mako’s fist or not.  
“You Jedi are nuts.”

From her flank, Decimus head suddenly pops up and he smirks with glee as he has tracked his quarry.  
“Ah, so this is where you’ve scurried into, little rat.”

He lashes at her, but in vain, for she dodges and flees.  
“Come on then, trap me, banthahead!”, she taunts and sprints into a tunnel. She hopes to gain more range, both to stall him and give their team a chance to flee.

As he appears at the end of it and approaches her with a steady pace, that will have to be enough.  
“I have seen Jedi perform many foolish things in my life, but few of them flee with such paltry efficiency.”

“Well, to win, sometimes you have to take desperate measures and postpone the attack, until the right alignment.” She presses her comm button. “Now Mako!”

With the click of a switch on Mako’s datapad, the docking clamps deactivate and immediately, both ships are freed from the flimsy embrace. The dilemma that quickly arises is that the Prowling Nexu does not have its own hyperdrive and despite technically being allowed to drift forward at the same pace, due to momentum of spaceflight, the flagship is treading at a swifter pace. The Nexu briefly floats away, but in this unruly shaft of fluctuating variables, they are drawn closer and eventually bump into each other once more. With another heftier blow, the flagship progressively veers out of course and diverts, losing its heading and angle, twisting around into a churning mess.

In this turbulence, the ship rocks and shudders until the hyperdrive is forcibly yanked out from its speed. Due to the internal gravitation, no one hovers to the roof or anything akin to such chaos, but it does get so unsteady as to give Ktila a practical benefit. Dispatching a wave of Force energy into the non-functioning side of the armor, she puts Decimus off balance. With this being her final shot, she pushes herself through the air and dashes into him. Trying not to fall, he cannot defend himself from the lightsaber that comes clawing and penetrates the grid. It shatters some of the defective metal and grazes Decimus. In his shock at the pain, he loses the grip on his own lightsaber. That’s when the corridor’s lightning goes off.

**

As the view of hyperspace ruptures past the windows, the flagship ends up somewhere in the middle of nowhere, far away from any star or planetary system. Safe to say that it’s outside of the previous battle that they had attended. On the bridge, much of the lighting has evaporated too, leaving nothing but the distant stars and a few consoles to illuminate the battlefield. Despite being shaken, the mandalorians press on, virtually with heightened vigor.

The status of the bridge crew is unknown, but Jov and Jindo care little for such elements, not letting a shred of mortal danger ruin their contest.  
For Jov, the character of this confrontation has shifted. She had not been viewing him as a proper opponent previously, one she had to kill. There could still have been a dream of redemption, for Jindo to turn back and accept an outstretched hand. Now, she really tears into him. If he strives to kill her leader, her Mandalore, her…father figure, she can’t abide that type of insolence.

They punch and knock each other in the middle, attempting and continuously going astray with the daggers. He undoubtedly provides an equally energetic display and when she misfires, he rams the sole of his boot into her gut. She goes reeling into the railing, spitting slightly as the impact really knocked her good in the back, but as he hounds her, she uses this metallic post to hoist herself up and kick him right in the head. Jindo does wear a helmet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, as her durasteel digs its heel into him, probably knocking him around inside. With him being temporarily staggered, she jumpstarts the jetpack and tackles him right in the chest.

In a joint flight, they burst across the room and crashes into one of the computer terminals. The impact causes a slight explosion and electric sparks to unload. He took the brunt of the damage of this collision and while he won’t tolerate himself to be rendered immobile, his strength is waning. In this weakened state as he tries to punch her, she captures his wrist and kicks him in the hollow of the knee. He buckles.

With the first direct shot at victory, Jov seizes it. She thrusts her dagger into a slit in his armor, near the abdomen, producing groans of pain from the other mandalorian. Having few reserves of stamina left to fight her with, Jindo drops his dagger and she begins pounding him, completely and utterly battering every exposed rift. She punches his chest, kicks at his waist and sucker punches the helmet. The rain of destruction is too much, and he plummets to the floor.

His whole body sustains ripples of pain all over and he acknowledges that there isn’t much left. He’s fully conscious of the fact that no glory will be his on this day, no takeover of the mandalorians. This is where it ends.  
As he ends up on his knees, he clutches his helmet, pops it open with a hiss and tosses it aside. Underneath, she sees a light brown-skinned zabrak with bloodshot yellow eyes. He spews some blood on the deck and then wipes his mouth.

“Well, shit. Not how I thought I’d kick it, but…” He clenches the hilt of the dagger still lodged inside his body, but doesn’t pull it out. “…hey, at least I wasn’t downed by some wimp. This is how I’d wanna go.”

Jov scowls as she casually walks over to retrieve one of her guns, before returning to tower above him.  
“Not sure how to feel about you, personally. Turning your backs on us, on Mand’alor, that’s not the mandalorian way.”

“War is the mandalorian way, champ. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur – ‘Today is a good day for someone else to die’, if you didn’t know. It’s in our nature.”

The disapproving streak perseveres, but Jov eases on the frown.  
“You got a point, I guess, but…we should still stick together, if you ask me. Can’t remember the words, but Torian once told me another proverb – ‘Shed not your sibling’s blood in a forest of beasts’.”

Jindo ponder this creed, but it is an ephemeral intermission. He snorts with sorrow and shakes his head.  
“I reckon they will, with you at Artus’ side. Didn’t see it earlier, but you’re probably the future we need. Win some glory for the rest of us, huh?” He laughs to himself, but gets impeded by another batch of blood.  
“Now let’s end this rigmarole. C’mon, champ. I’ve earned a warrior’s death.”

Jov stands back a little, peers at him, listens to him. He speaks like a mandalorian, looks like one, and damn well feels like one too. He knows what war is like, to embrace that blaze. She doesn’t desire to kill him, but…her wishes are irrelevant.  
She lifts her gun, aims at his head.  
“That you have. May the afterlife give you endless hunts, ner vod.”

One shot, and the climax comes to an abrupt halt. As his body hits the floor, Jov gets the urge to roar. It’s a foreign sensation. She used to fight mandalorians without reservations. What has she become?

**

Darkness is all he sees. Decimus tries to steady himself, feeling how he has finally been damaged, though it isn’t critical. But how could this happen? This isn’t how things should end, how his life should proceed. He was meant to help Malgus crush the Dark Council, set Kaas City on fire and rebuild a new Empire upon the ashes. Well, after severing Malgus’ head from his body, of course. With the stealth fleet, the nigh invincible gear and his ingenious tactics, he would be the new ruler, the Emperor of an indomitable epoch and guide the Empire to victory against their enemies, wherever they roam. One wretched Jedi was not where he envisioned it all to stop. That is ludicrous to even suggest.

He moves to stand, knowing he can spare some energy for more combat, but he can’t ignore that the armor is getting heavier. The exo tech must be malfunctioning.  
As he glances around to look for his tool of eliminating his foe, it does not appear. Where is that abominable lightsaber? He can resist a lot of strikes with this setup, but without a weapon…

“Looking for this?”

He turns to face the tunnel and as on cue, two lights shine – one red, one blue, emulating the colors of their wielder. Decimus glares at her.  
“You mock me for stealing and then you mimic the same behavior? You truly are a bizarre Jedi. I wonder what your Order would remark regarding this act of dishonor.”

“I wouldn’t care, because I left them behind. I’m no Jedi, and soon, you won’t be anything anymore.”

Angling both blades to the side, she digs her feet into the ground and vaults ahead, sprinting at him one last time, with the weapons in her wake. He does all he can to shield his body, knowing he only has one possibility – he has to block them, ensure she doesn’t snag a single avenue to his weak point and take back either one or both of the lightsabers. Utilizing the Force will do nothing, as she’ll just erect mental blocks.

His gamble works to a moderate degree, as he seals all gaps, barricades himself from multiple attacks, warding off everything with his arms, wrists and hands, but regrettably, it isn’t perfect. He isn’t fast enough.  
His most fatal blunder ends up being his eagerness. He is too fixated on offense, on revenge. As he makes a bid at grabbing her, he misses wholesale, botching his one chance and she skids beneath the blow.

With an open flaw in the defense, she rams one lightsaber, the red one, right where the armor has broken and digs in deep, so much so that he can feel how it effortlessly drills into his flesh and an unbearable wave of torment pulsates far and wide. She doesn’t let that be the end of it, for she keeps carving and slashes downwards, through the side of his torso.  
As it exits, Decimus experiences a full-blown devastation. The pain is too severe for him to maintain any notions of survival and he wavers. He falls to his knees, but in spite of all the hopeless air around him, he vehemently struggles. He tries to let the pain suffuse in him and strengthen the determination. It is self-deceiving folly.

When next he aims his gaze at his opponent, his field of view is filled with both blades skirting his skin, by his exposed face, bordering the neck. He searches and scrutinize the red eyes, but uncovers solely one element – raw, vicious fury.  
“This is for Corellia.”

It’s unidentifiable whether his hefty build or his decapitated head strikes the ground first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Jindo Krey is another one of those bosses in the False Emperor flashpoint, if you didn't know_


	68. Splintered philosophies (part 01)

The days and nights on Makeb have, quite fortuitously, provided the population with a comparatively blissful existence on its otherwise erratic surface. Sunny is the predominant weather, with a side of tranquil clouds and not to forget, earthquakes. The latter is an aspect which has by now been scrutinized and explained, but not straightened out. The question in the minds of some people who have become mindful of it, is not _when_ it will be resolved, but _if_.

Around the assortment of compounds in the possession of Saridme the Hutt, there was until this day few prospects of friction and danger. Once they’d acquired the loyalty of the Regulators, nothing stood in their way. Who would challenge the Cartel, their armies, small but exponentially fortifying fleet and the mercs all together?  
As it happens, one operation would – off the grid.

The guards in the vicinity are presently standing idle, unconcerned with the concealed looming danger on the horizon. A whole detachment was assigned to the perimeters, but except for a couple of patrols, the majority are leaning back without a care in the world. Arrogance will be their undoing.  
Things shake up quite fiercely in nearly an instant. From beyond one of the hedges, a squad of imperial spec ops troops – led by Captain Clayrom himself – rises and fires burst rounds. The entire Regulator equivalent goes down in a matter of seconds.

They aren’t as stealthy as they may have endeavored to be, however, for a few Regulators detect the strike.  
“Hey!”, they hear several meters to their right. “Intruders!”

The reinforcements lift their weapons and prepare to give the imperials what for, but these ones are no less unsuccessful. From another set of peripheral hiding obstacles, streams an additional cluster of ambushers, but these ones carry a far more disconcerting gallery of tools – lightsabers.  
Zal’riva joins the fray, tailed by Lakorev, Kira, Cytharat and Baeleki, who make quick work of their opponents. Zal cuts one down and crushes another against the ground with sheer strength, Cytharat decapitates the first he lunges into and force-chokes a second, while Kira and Lakorev spirals in, slashing open at least two each. Baeleki is the only one to lag behind, and though she aspires to emulate their forthright decisiveness and boldness, she hesitates. She manages to conquer one, but something shifts as he drops his weapon.

“I surrender!”

As he shrinks away, so exposed and vulnerable, Baeleki wavers on account of not knowing the optimal strategy.  
“Uhm…I…"

Nor does she need to, as it turns out. Before either she can make a statement or he can attempt to outmaneuver her, Cierah sneaks up behind and stabs him in the throat with a vibrodagger – quick and quiet. After the fact, she stares at the togruta reproachingly.  
“No survivors, no witnesses. They cannot know who flattened this outpost.”

Baeleki opens her mouth, but the lips quiver and she has no adequate retort.  
“But…”

“Be sure to get comfortable with what is required to achieve our objectives. Otherwise, remain at the base.”

The padawan swallows and lowers her eyes.  
“…y-yes sir. I will try.”

Not thrilled by someone lecturing her student, Kira steps in to intervene.  
“Hey, could you stop that? Your angle isn’t exactly fair. She was doing her best, okay? And besides, the guy she cornered threw in the towel, so your act was kinda, like, overkill, don’t you think?”

Cierah does not come off as especially impressed as she pans to Kira.  
“Abandon this unduly humane point of view while we’re on this planet and arise into reality, Jedi. This is a high-stakes mission, where every flaw has the potential of being fatal.”

The intensity painted on her isn’t a facet Kira can outlast for long and she too budges.  
“Okay, whatever makes you happy. Just leave my padawan be, will you?”  
She encircles Baeleki’s shoulders, to extricate her from the judgy eye of the agent. Along her exit, she passes by Zal and discloses her opinions quietly.  
“That woman creeps me the hell out. Was always a menace, even during our first clash on Hoth, but she’s honestly a regular hardass power house. This is equal to getting drowned in disapproval by a Master and she’s not even of the Order.”

To alleviate some of it, Zal tries a faint and sympathetic smile, patting the former Knight’s shoulder.  
“I’m conscious of your sentiment, Kira and I’ll have a chat with her once we return. For now, this is a criteria for victory.”

The human exhales in exhaustion and shuts her eyes.  
“Yeah, yeah, point taken. Better pan out, though, cuz of all we have to put up with…”

After the area has been doublechecked and scouted, ascertaining a satisfactory security level, Cierah approaches Zal.  
“We have to detail the logistics of this breach.”

“Of course. Any relevant opinions you’d like to start with?”

“I posit that we split our forces. We have substantial numbers to deal with multiple zones in concert.  
To ensure an unmitigated success, we have to eliminate all hostile targets in the terrain, before they become privy to our motives. My team and I can deal with desyncing the long-range communications array.”

Zal has deactivated her lightsaber at this moment and now crosses her arms, inclining her head slowly.  
“I’m with you on all fronts, barring one caveat – no civilian deaths.”

The agent stares at her with a light and muted frown for a second or two.  
“Why?”

“Because killing them is extreme and excessively meticulous to a fault. An aggressive fault.”

The rest of the group catches the kinks of the conversation and at least Kira smiles. Cierah is instead in a state of dissonance.  
“Wrath, you’re bringing sentimentally into this.”

“No, I’m bringing rationality. Carnage isn’t a prerequisite of this mission and I happen to believe we can do better.”

“Such restrictions would jeopardize the integrity of the overarching operation. We can’t leave anyone alive. They will send word to the hutts.”

“Then take them prisoner.”

Cierah rolls her eye and diverts heading.  
“This is redundant.”

Zal doesn’t let her go that readily, tilting her body somewhat to dog her.  
“Why? We have more than enough space. It’s not like we would capture an entire city.”

“On the contrary – carrying non-critical, unarmed, potentially belligerent targets is burdensome and obstructive.”

“And? We have plenty of hands, lest you hadn’t noticed. Or are you claiming your associates and our extensively trained soldiers are too feeble to haul a miniscule load? Perhaps they lack sufficient strength?”, she inquires sarcastically. “Stop grumbling and get to it, Cipher.”

If she had intended to get on Cierah’s nerves, she nails it, seeing the agent’s jaw straining.  
“…as you desire, _my lord_.”

Zal ignores the slightly disdainful pitch in her voices and goes on.  
“Let us divide the squads then. You in charge of your team, Cytharat leads the spec ops troops, while I take my own crew, Kira and Baeleki?”

“Serviceable”, Cierah concedes, “but assign Nevasc to me.”

“Oh, naturally. I already figured her as one of yours.” She navigates to the pureblood’s direction.  
“Can I trust you fulfill your section as well?”

Cytharat bows his head in reverence.  
“Doubtlessly, my lord. Rest assured, we will not fail you.”

“Captain Clayrom, you’re aware what we have to resort to if the circumstances go awry?”

The human salutes crisply.  
“Yes, m’lord! Sergeant Shayla packed the essential ordnance”, he gestures at one of those under his command.

“Good management. Let’s see if you’re as skilled as your reputation.”

On another end of the rallying area, Kaliyo is wiping a hand over her gun, but with the debate coming to a pause, she smirks and looks up.  
“So, anyone wanna keep a tally on who can rack up the most kills?”, she asks slyly.

“Absolutely not”, dismisses Quinn. “Such frivolous waste would only endanger our ultimate victory.”

“Interesting proposal, though”, Pierce remarks.

“The Major has the correct analysis”, is Nevasc’s input. “It would be an immaterial distraction.”

Next to Zal stands her apprentice, who plants his hands over his hips.  
“Wouldn’t mind giving it a shot, personally. Might be a one-sided contest, with me being Sith and all.”

Kaliyo fires off a vicious smile at him.  
“Pff. Assuming you’ve got it in the bag based on that? Gimme a break.”

“Feel free to prove me wrong. Kira?”

Kira opens her mouth and almost wants to sign up, but it occurs to her that she can’t set a bad example for her padawan.  
“Uh…I’ll pass.”

The chiss shrugs.  
“Your loss.” He aligns himself towards the pureblood. “My good Lord Cytharat? Can I offer any means to tempt you into joining us?”

Cytharat shakes his head, though doesn’t oppose as staunchly.  
“I’m afraid I share the beliefs of the Major and agent Nevasc. It would be unwise to essentially play games on a critical task such as this.”

“Aww, come now. What could possibly-“

“Enough”, Cierah calls calmly, but strictly. “I’m putting a stop to it – this is no arena for fun and games. It’s a deadly serious task and I won’t have it mishandled by childish behavior.”

With that prompt scolding, the playfulness tones down and dies off, warranting an influx of somberness.  
“Are we done?”, asks Zal, not particularly concerned either way. “Good. Let’s stay on track, given the tricky nature of our end goal.”

Over the comms, Katha Niar weighs in.  
“Base command reporting in, Lord Wrath. The orbital personnel is standing by to receive the spoils from your break-in. We have also arranged to contribute any intel you might necessitate.”

This is followed up by another familiar voice – Doctor Nadrin Tro.  
“I am at miss Niar’s side, my lord, for technical and geological consultation.”

“We are currently monitoring hutt radio transmissions and will keep everyone apprised of unpredicted alterations in enemy movements. So far, they are proceeding according to the prescribed schedule.”

“Good, both of you”, Zal relays. “Stay tapped in and listen closely.”

“By your will, my lord.”

Cierah chimes in as well.  
“I must emphasize caution, Niar. The Cartel could still have patrol ships in orbit and if they rupture our network, your operatives have to be primed to circumvent it, which stipulates split-second decisions.”

“Your counsel is noted, sir. We promise not to act carelessly.”

Prior to their separation, Lakorev homes in on Cytharat.  
“The initial surge was rather intriguing, but I’ll keep my eyes on you for additional displays. Ready to observe the well-honed ways of a true Sith Lord in action. You do, after all, represent the Sphere of Military Offense here.”

There’s a consistent suggestive edge to his voice, which makes a faint smile crop up on the pureblood.  
“I shall endeavor to inspire.”

Lakorev’s frisky disposition escalates. Maybe he can-  
He has more tantalizing comments in the pipeline, but they’re impeded by his teacher.  
“And I sincerely expect you to do the same for me, apprentice. Eyes on the road ahead.”

He looks amusedly at her, before bowing charmingly at Cytharat as he backs away.  
“As you wish, master.”

* * *

  
The subsequent mission proceeds accordingly and on the whole, without hitches. Zal maintains a moderately protective angle of Baeleki, seeing fit to keep her from accidents and hot water.  
Regrettably, not everyone’s procession is equally fault-free. As her team has advanced close to an all-out cleansing of their designated sector, holding a couple of civilian captives, they obtain an inbound message.

“Lord Wrath?”, they catch Katha’s voice over the comm unit. “Be advised that Cytharat’s team have engaged distinctively durable hostiles in the lower levels. There are apparently some complications they can’t easily dismantle.”

Zal shows some signs of perturbance on her face.  
“We haven’t heard anything from them. Why didn’t they call us first?”

“The variables are still in question, my lord, but they did manage to convey that they’ve had communication errors. I would prefer not to say outright, but the implications were…”

Lakorev furrows his brows.  
“Master, I implore you to deploy me. I’ll evaluate their conditions and extract them if need be.”

Zal looks with severe skepticism at her apprentice, not getting a good vibe from any of this. With few suitable avenues, she concedes.  
“Fine, you may go, but not alone. Kira, Quinn – join him.”

The Major lowers his head in deference.  
“As you say, Dark Lord.”

“But master…”, Lakorev protests.

His ideas are rescinded as Zal raises a finger.  
“Don’t argue with me. If Cytharat and his men are in trouble, you genuinely believe you can take their adversaries all on your own?”

With this obvious truth presented, he refrains from further dissention.  
“…no, master.”

Kira throws a glance at the twi’lek as well.  
“You sure ‘bout this, Zal?”

“Positive. Pierce, Broonmark, Baeleki and I can hold down the fort in the meantime with ease. But remain vigilant - you’ll be striding into more treacherous territory than us.”  
As she watches the trio depart, Zal patches into a two-way channel between herself and the second leader.  
“Cierah? There’s a situation brewing with Cytharat’s team.”

The response occurs rather hastily, prior to Zal getting into details.  
“Yes, I have noted this development. I sent Nevasc and HK-51 down to assess and contain it. I assume you deployed some of your own?”

“In fact, I did. With those two and my three, they should be all set.”

“I trust my associates, so there should be no issues, as long as yours maintain focus on the objective.”

* * *

  
The facilities procured by Saridme was not necessarily constructed by his staff or resources, but the building he occupied is still impressive and somewhat lavishly designed – not to mention big and lengthy. To get down into the basement, Lakorev, Kira and Quinn had to utilize an elevator and there were more than merely one destination.  
While there, they prowl through the dimly lit corridors, searching for proof of Cytharat and his team’s progress. Before they reach their destination, Kira and Quinn are both startled as they note movement from the shadows to their east, unsheathing weapons instantaneously. Luckily, distinguishing themselves are Nevasc and HK-51.

“Stars”, says a sighing Kira. “Close call there. You guys didn’t reckon that giving us an advance warning was a good idea, so we wouldn’t have to accidentally reduce our numbers?”

Nevasc shrugs nonchalantly, her expression even and unfazed.  
“I presumed you had been notified of our relocation.”

“Skepticism: As efficient as you have demonstrated to be with your lightsaber, the risk of cutting down either of us were minimal – certainly in relation to pure circumstance”, adds HK.

The chiss nods, proving that she is on the same page, while Kira rolls her eyes.  
“Wow. Overconfident much?”

Quinn disregards this little spat and instead gets back to the task at hand.  
“Miss Nevasc, report. Have either of you uncovered any traces of activity which could lead us to our missing squad?”

The chiss gestures at the opposite passageway that leads into their current route.  
“Yes. We encountered a few fallen droids along one of the corridors, some noticeably cut down. I would surmise it was damage caused by lightsaber, judging from the clean incisions. No imperial casualties.”

“Sounds like Cytharat to me”, comments Lakorev. “We should proceed. I’m confident we’ll find them down here – I sense an aura of dark side energy nearby.”

In the next few seconds, they can easily pick up bangs and clatter in the distance, though muffled by the walls.  
“Gunshots?”, asks Kira. “Big ones, by the sound of things.”

“It would seem they’re still in the action. Come, let’s step on it.”

The deeper in they traverse, the clearer it appears to be that the area was generally swiped clean by Cytharat and his squad. They find more fallen droids, several of them quite overtly in pieces due to the surgical carvings of a lightsaber. However, this is not the sole piece of information they reveal, for they also come to understand that this section is somehow insulated with signal-dampening emitters – their own comms are losing their links. If the spec ops team did get a message through, it was either before they got here or somehow by a fluke.

In the depths of this level, they come upon a set of thick metal doors, substantial enough to provide shelter against vigorous assaults of various blaster weapons. As Nevasc unlocks them by plugging some type of wire into the keypad, they unshut and unveil the ongoing battle inside.  
The first sight they perceive is two dead spec ops soldiers, a mere few meters past the entrance. Neither of them got very far before they were ostensibly engulfed with overwhelming quantities of energy weapons’ fire. Farther to one side, the group peeks the first living member, which happens to be Cytharat himself, who’s lying prone on the floor. Blood drips around and from him, while another trooper has just run out to assist him. There is an immediate flash of panic on Lakorev’s face.

Despite this distressing revelation, the most prominent roadblock is positioned in the center of the facility, and come in three separate creatures, all of them droids.  
Each one is at least four meters tall and two wide, walking on two legs. Their frames are impressively bulky and strengthened with layers of plates from an unknown alloy. The first two carry guns with unbelievable fire rate, beyond that of the average blaster, which is accompanied by heavy explosives. The third is situated in front of the other two, its arms projecting shields with enough size to effectively envelop all three. For the time being, these machines have painted the soldiers into a corner, to barricade behind some now inoperable consoles and crates.

Upon entry, without delay, HK tests their efficacy by sending off a few shots, but the kinetic barrier from the third stops all from hitting their marks.  
“Take cover!”, Cytharat lets out.

This caution is unfortunately too late, for the droids shift their aim from pinning down the spec ops troops to blasting the new arrivals.  
Not being powerless, they harness their honed reflexes and perceptions to elude the attack. Nevasc and Kira easily skips out of the blast zone, HK triggers some form of brief jet burst from his feet, with Lakorev grabbing Quinn by the arm, dragging him out of harm’s way.

On cue, Clayrom and his surviving troops stretch out over their makeshift barricades to provide cover fire, allowing the newcomers to sprint under its defenses. Lakorev personally pulls Cytharat into safety and it’s in the nick of time – their adversaries do not retreat or slow the pace of their assault.  
The pureblood doesn’t seem able to offer much in exchange, as he has been hit somewhere in the legs and lower torso region. Pending a formulation of a tactic, Quinn tends to Cytharat.  
“My lord Lakorev, his wounds are physically grisly, but not severe. I will have him stabilized momentarily – though he will require increased medical supervision soon enough.”

Lakorev ducks as debris and splinters from the sustained fire presses on.  
“Good work, Major. Now we have to determine how to deactivate the droids. Any ideas, Lord Cytharat?”

The pureblood’s breathing has gained in weight and volume, but commits to efforts anyhow.  
“Doubtful. We were…jumped shortly following our entry. I failed to defend some of my people, but ordered the rest into cover, as I held off the attacks with the Force. I…couldn’t last forever.”

“You will live, my lord”, Quinn reassures him. “You have my word.”

“As for our enemies, I can’t say much else than what you can presumably already discern – they are equipped with cutting-edge weaponry, dissimilar from what we’ve witnessed from Regulators or other Cartel affiliates. Where they originate from or what powers them…I don’t know, but one can speculate.”

The droids with offensive configurations switch settings on their built-in weapons to instead launch a conjoint shockwave. It almost knocks their improvised wards down on a second attempt, but Kira and Lakorev combine their powers to stave it off. It keeps their robotic assailants at a distance, but they continue to make headway. To quell this charge, they will have to devise a clever strategy to get past the shields.

Kira endeavors to retaliate from one of the flanks, by using the Force, but is mildly astounded when they withstand it without any marked traction. Afterwards, she resumes her previous position.  
“Okay, so that wasn’t exceptional. With the ferocity behind these shots and the fortitude of the bots, my abilities won’t make a dent. Granted, it’s not really much of my style to begin with.”

“If isotope-5 is at play”, utters Cytharat, “containing this matter will not be uncomplicated and from our visual evidence, brute forcing our way through is not viable. These machines are outfitted to hold exactly such power at bay.”

Kira glances at Lakorev.  
“We could send someone to fetch Zal.”

Lakorev levels himself back at her steadily.  
“That’s uncalled for. Master Vivees has other priorities to contend with and shouldn’t have to mount any rescues. We can conduct this on our own.”

His assessment brings a smirk to Kira’s face.  
“Wanting to stand on your own two feet, huh? Know what that feels like.”

“Well, the frontal assault is foolhardy”, says Clayrom and partially demonstrates as he skips up to fire a few shots, only to be barely singed by the incoming bolts.  
“Cover between here and the rear end is sparse. Running would make us easy pickings.”

“Hmm. They’ve gotta run outta juice eventually, right?”, posits Kira.

“Implausible”, replies Cytharat. “Remember the reports - sustainability is one of the desirable characteristics of isotope-5 and if it is what fuels them, their reserves are virtually endless.”

”Their backs are wide open, though. So instead of taking ‘em head on, our only chance is to circle around. While not getting blown to bits somehow…”

Tracking their motions, the group supposes that the droids are not willing to split up and go for the flanking maneuver, in all likelihood for fear of being rendered susceptible to counteracts. It’s also inconclusive whether they are not in possession of extra grenades or if they simply keep them in storage while Force users are present. Whatever the case, Lakorev gets an idea.  
“Can’t we try to get someone over to the far wall?”

Clayrom hesitates.  
“Uh…we’ve got misgivings, m’lord. Anyone bare themselves in that way, they’ll be torn to shreds.” He nudges his head in the direction of one of their dead. “Already confirmed.”

Nevasc has stayed largely silent during the onslaught, with few reprisals, but her eyes now shift as if to calculate a solution.  
“I have a stealth generator integrated within my armor. It should give me an edge.”

“Doubtful about that one too. Those metalheads might have heat sensors in their systems. Once you’re in proximity, they’d squash you like a bug.”

The scene is looking more and more dire, but Lakorev isn’t ready to relent. He strokes his chin with ruminating strokes.  
“Hmm. Is it possible to bypass this element by exploiting the air route?”

The second chiss slowly turns to him.  
“…air route?”

“How do you mean, lord?”, asks the Captain.

Lakorev inclines his head towards the Jedi.  
“Kira and I can consolidate our powers and throw one person across. With the velocity and momentum, should be too quick to catch. When that individual lands, it’d be practical if they’re limber enough to dampen falling damage, plus dash into protective space.”

The two chiss are sitting on opposing sides and Nevasc peers straight at his face, determining his intent.  
“When you say ‘individual’, you are insinuating…”

“The person among us with the best and most unbeatable reflexes, plus manageable enough size. Anyone have a decent proposition?”

The whole team, in unison, aims their eyes at Nevasc, who in turn glares at the apprentice.  
“…and what would you suggest I do once I have stabilized my footing? Nip at its heels? My blaster pistol is insufficient.”

“Oh!”, blurts Clayrom. “One moment, sir. Shayla.” The Captain taps the shoulder at one of his subordinates with a moderately larger backpack. She moves and he rummages briskly within the container, before fishing out a device which fits into his hand in a manner of speaking.  
“High-end explosives. We bring them onto every mission, as a contingency.”

Lakorev smiles satisfactorily.  
“Excellent. Nevasc, can we trust you with getting it behind enemy lines?”

The agent holsters her pistol and cracks her fingers; though, potentially more due to her souring temperament than preparation.  
“Provided you can keep me steady, yes.”

Doing as the plan puts forth, Nevasc gets in place and holds until the Force users are primed to launch. Lakorev gazes at the rest of the team.  
“Captain, we’ll have to keep the droids’ fire directed in our heading, so be big and rowdy. Don’t let them get astray for any extended periods.”

“Understood.”

“Quinn, stick to your post for now and have your medkit prepped.”

Quinn bows curtly.  
“As you wish.”

“HK, you will remain with the soldiers and support their efforts, while we launch our chiss missile.”

“Acknowledgement: This is an acceptable directive. Activating suppressive protocols”, HK informs them.

Meanwhile, Nevasc keeps on glaring.  
“…I do not find this epitaph amusing nor tolerable.”

A couple of seconds later, HK and Clayrom separate to a small degree, spreading the range of their diverting capacity. Then, they rain down blaster bolts upon the enemy droids, guaranteeing that the attention is temporarily centered on them exclusively.  
With an inquiring nod, Lakorev gets the all-clear signal from Nevasc, to engage their mental catapult. The two Force users check with each other too, establishing their ready state.

“Strap in, lady”, voices Kira. “This’ll be a turbo ride.”

“Aspire to aim accurately, if you please. I would not enjoy coming out the other end as a bloodstain on the wall.”

In sync, Kira and Lakorev commit a great deal of their energies to encase Nevasc, gracefully scooping her up. They concentrate on where they have to align their sights and lets the equilibrium in their hearts permeate their bodies for liftoff.  
Shortly trailing this arrangement, they angle their arms to the back and then shoot them forward, enabling Nevasc to be projected through the air. The agent actually governs her mobility with aptitude and soars elegantly into the sky, past the droids, way ahead of their notice. She spins and near the floor, she modifies her vector and lands on her feet, gliding against the metal.

The fast fire-rate one swings around and adjusts its gun in pursuit, but by then Nevasc has leapt onto her feet and began hightailing it, barely getting into safety of a pillar on the adjacent wall. She conspicuously bolts with unnatural – or rather, artificial – speed, illustrating her amplified reflexes and motoric abilities due to cybernetic implants. Without them, she might have been caught in the salvos.

For a minute or so, the plan is shaky, as a result of the droids dividing their capabilities, to let one target Nevasc, which puts the accomplishment of the team’s strikes on the line. Lakorev watches how his superior gets pinned down and realizes that he won’t have it.  
In an exceedingly reckless and hazardous choice, he jumps into the shielded droid, enhanced by the Force, and while his stomp doesn’t generate any harm, it does nevertheless bear fruit, for he winds up as the foremost focal point of their hostility once more.  
Nevasc shakes her head at the bravado of it.

“What a frantic boy you have turned into”, she mutters in cheunh, but she can’t fault him for the bravery – her path to the objective is now unhampered.

Just as an extra safety net, she toggles on her cloak and evaporates from the view of others, prior to darting over the floor to a spot alongside the feet. She handily plants the charge on the right one in a delicate and covert fashion, not tipping the droids off and rigs it. Within a few seconds, the room vibrates from top to bottom, as it detonates.  
The full trio of droids gets pushed away by the blast, though not instantly wrecked by the outburst’s potency. For whatever reason, they retain operationality.

Clayrom is especially flabbergasted by it.  
“Bollocks! Those are some of the hardiest tin cans I’ve ever bloody fought!”

Lakorev scours their stances and determines that the barriers have collapsed.  
“But not invincible.”

He digs his foot into the ground and once more bolstered by the flourishing fervor of the Force, he storms into their enemies, rotating in momentous degrees until he can hurtle onto the shieldbearer and burrow his blade right into its chest. It doesn’t topple posthaste, but at the very least staggers backwards. A new opportunity arises, and he carries on his slicing, beating it over and over until one arm comes off, making it virtually defenseless.

The only reason he attains this venue is per the courtesy of his unit. HK loads a higher setting of his assassination protocols to target the legs of the offense-programmed ones assisted by Clayrom’s troops, while Kira replicates Lakorev’s approach with a close range maneuver. By way of a pooled entrapment, the droids finally succumb.  
Though it tumbles, one tries to take a final, desperate swipe at Lakorev, but Nevasc materializes, mounts it and shoves her vibroblade into its chest, emitting sparks and loud static racket as it crumbles.

With the felled foes broken around them, Lakorev turns curious eyes to Nevasc, who simply stares back.  
“Do not get negligent”, she asserts sternly.

“Sorry. Adrenaline had me too psyched to take all the appropriate precautions. Thanks for the save.”

“Do not let it be repeated.”

As the coast has cleared, Quinn gets to his feet and relocates to the apprentice.  
“Sir, Lord Cytharat is tended to for now. We will have to transfer him back to the base for expanded recovery soon.”

“I will be fine”, argues Cytharat, which only predates an anguished groan.

“Please, Lord, trust my judgment. My knowledge of your physical health status is by all imaginable estimates far more substantial.”

“Relax”, Lakorev directs at the pureblood. “We have this situation well in hand already - my master is not one to slip up.”

Cytharat exhales and tries to stand.  
“I’m cognizant of that, but-“

“And no need for worry regarding your return to the shuttle - I’ll carry you to our transport in my big strong arms. You’ll be completely safe.”

Kira overhears the banter and huffs mirthfully.  
“Big? Yeah, that’s an overrating. I’ve seen bigger – on your boss, actually.”

Lakorev merely shrugs casually.  
“Technicalities.”

Last to join them are the soldiers and HK, with Clayrom gesturing at their ‘victims’.  
“M’lord, what of the droids? You prefer we…haul them back somehow?”

The sole active droid interferes.  
“Clarification: By and large, their collective weight will be a significant magnitude to bear in one go – too comprehensive for natural human functional extents. I propose we dismember them, piece by piece, for starters.”

“I’ll defer to your appraisal of this, HK”, states Lakorev. “I don’t think my master will have any complaints to make if we bring a few trophies.”

With the threat effectively neutralized, Kira shuts her lightsaber off, but maintains hold of it.  
“So, guess this was a pretty sweet victory, huh? Research secured, Sith rescued, hutts undermined.”

“On the whole, yes. Let us hope they preclude reinforcements.”

“Pff. What, tired already? I can do this dance all night.”


	69. Splintered philosophies (part 02)

Day and night are tricky to differentiate and split into regimented systems, when one resides on an orbital station and everything is fairly dark outside except for infrequent sightings of the sun, but this would not be sufficient to excuse Katha’s heedless schedule.  
The pivotal nature of their activities and her own role to play in its process is really putting a dire strain on her, which undercuts her ability to sleep properly and mentally coerces her to continue her work perpetually. It’s why she’s seated by the terminal that she began laboring on, several hours overdue for her rest.

She is not left to her overreaching duties all night, for company soon visits in the shape of the main commander of the mission, Zal’riva herself. She must’ve detected the rhythmic droning of taps.  
On the second Zal enters, she has an unobstructed line of sight to Katha perched on her chair, rubbing her head with bags under her eyes. The human is startled forthwith, as words scatter from the Sith.  
“You look exhausted, miss Niar.”

Katha flinches and then promptly gets on her feet, nearly knocking down a datapad in the process.  
“Lord Wrath.”

“At ease, Niar. Please, be seated again.”

Taking a deep breath and patiently exhaling, Katha adheres to the instructions.  
“Y…yes, my lord.”

Sliding her hands in behind her back, Zal comes shuffling inside with a leisurely pace.  
“Is something wrong?”

“I…”, she starts, but hesitates.

“Go on, speak.”

“Well…I don’t wish to question our positions or standing orders…”

Zal sighs and rolls her eyes in a vexed fashion.  
“Cut the garbage, Niar. By now, you should’ve learned that I prefer my people to be frank whenever feasible. This goes in private too:”

“As you decree.”  
On this note, Katha indulges herself to take a load off and relax a tad. Her demeanor turns a nudge informal and she shows a worn exterior.  
“To be completely truthful, I am fatigued, running out of fuel in a sense. For years, I made a pretty comfortable life for myself as an administrator and though I was hard at work – hence being assigned under your capable leadership – we rarely had these hours or the unbridled pressure.  
Furthermore, this is a very new experience from my point of view. Bear in mind that I essentially used to count boxes. Paraphrasing a little, but…”

No protests from Zal, who nods sympathetically.  
“Understandable. Under your circumstances, I might feel the same.  
Did you oppose this burden imposed on you then?”

“Oh, not at all. As their offer was delivered to me, I saw it as my clarion call. You won’t hear me denying that this appointment was and still is an amazing opportunity. It’s an honor to serve the Empire, truly.” She pumps the breaks slightly, lifting a hand to rub her neck. “But the jury is still out on whether it was the _right_ call. Some days, I wonder if my mind is inadequately tempered to handle the stress.”

The statement elicits a discontent frown from Zal.  
“This doesn’t sit well with me, miss Niar. Believe me when I say I have wholehearted confidence and trust in your qualifications. Thus far, you have performed exceptionally, fully in line with the rest of this team. You have showcased a flurry of competence, ingenuity and organizational knowhow, not to mention the willingness to strive to achieve what’s required and even commit individual sacrifices. Contrary to your own belief, I would proclaim that you avert mental strain efficiently and adeptly.  
If you have a mind to, I would be glad to grant my recommendation to Darth Marr face to face, once our operations are finished.”

Evidently, this was not the type of response Katha had envisioned and she looks somewhat overwhelmed.  
“My lord, I…I’m beyond honored that you would even reflect on it. Unsure I’m worthy of such acclaim, though. But if you are set on this course, I would be in your debt.”

Zal smiles and pats her shoulder.  
“After our success, your doubts won’t be an issue much longer.” She does recognize the benefit of defusing some of this tension. She’d prefer to not have anyone grovel for her.  
“So, while you’re here, what’s our current state of affairs? Anything on the goods we retrieved from Saridme’s appropriated villa? In terms of meaningful progress, that is.”

Katha amends her position on the chair and angles back to the console.  
“We have evaluated each device and the droid components which were deemed salvageable. An intriguing read, I’m sure, albeit more salient for our scientists and engineers than myself.  
They reported that, while the tests administered were fascinating and noteworthy, all in all, it won’t satisfy the specifications provided by Lord Marr.”

“Hmm. Too paltry amount, eh?”

“Yes, Lord. What’s more, the extraction process itself does not yield as much of the isotope as active mining projects would, and far outside the obligations we’re attempting to fulfill.”

Zal’s face mimics her previous displeased expression as she folds her arms.  
“Damn. This is a serious problem, unless we somehow manage to rewire the hutt's gluttonous digging, which isn't viable at this state.  
Wish our efforts would’ve located more at that slimy slug’s lair, but no such luck.” She sways her head a little. “Can’t ignore the sentiment that I let down the others in some fashion.”

Katha is unprepared for an emotional revelation such as this, even if her superior has not been disinclined to shape sustainable working relationships with her staff before. Perhaps it should be encouraged.  
“I can guarantee it had nothing to do with the outcome, my lord. We all strove to accomplish our objective, you included. What we attained is serviceable for preliminary surveys.”

The twi’lek appears to chew on what is professed, to forge a conclusion of her own that she can be proud of.  
“Hmm, maybe you’re right.”

“The hunt is not at an end and we will simply have to proceed. One way or another, we’ll harvest this resource from Makeb. The Empire demands it.”

For a fateful few seconds, green eyes meet purple, gauging the spirit of the other. As a result, Zal chuckles.  
“Your determination is laudable.”

Katha snorts and shrugs.  
“To be fair, that’s more of Lord Cytharat’s trademark. Suppose I’m taking some cues from him.  
Apparently, all was not in vain, however. You did obtain vital digital information, according to Commander Draconius, who gave word she was going to analyze and integrate it first. The results are still pending, as she asked to deal with it alone.”

Exactly at this second, a third voice enters the area – the very same which was mentioned.  
“Indeed and my initial assessment has now been finalized.”

Both of the two other women cut to the doorway and discern the human steadily walking inside.  
“Cierah”, Zal greets tersely. “What news?”

“Taking it all into account, I would argue it was worth the price of admission. I have good and bad news.”

With her arms crossed still, Zal taps one of them in thought and leans onto the desk where Katha is busy.  
“Hmm. You know, on consideration, the way you two are so incessantly soaked in work is practically identical. Wonder if I shall have to make a command decision for regular ubiquitous downtimes.”

Katha clears her throat, while Cierah rolls her eye, obviously uninspired.  
“Unlike you, we take our duties with the utmost gravity.”

“I think you’ll find it’s called ‘being a workaholic’ and it’s unhealthy.”

“Not if you’re part machine.”

“…touché.  
Anyhow, I’ve always been more inclined to get punched before kissed, if a choice had to be made – get the rough ones out of the way.”

Cierah stares at her with a seething and disapproving look.  
“…if this was some form of innuendo, I swear…”

Zal’s smile resumes as she waves it off.  
“Just tell us the story, Cipher.”

“Fine. Secondhand intel procured by the hutts indicate that they’re now able to pinpoint the Republic representatives to a partial degree, which we witnessed landing on the planet a number of days ago – Havoc Squad is here.  
Why or how remains undetermined, but the Cartel reported swift and decisive assaults and strong-arming.”

“Then, bottom line – they fought their way in.”

“Precisely. Allegedly, they’ve negotiated terms with the Avesta family and are holing themselves up under the protection of the facilities in that territory on an unknown mesa.”

Katha circulates the info around in her mind for a spell and then accesses a particular directory in the database.  
“Ah yes, of course – Avesta, the name we mentioned on our pre-mission briefing. To reiterate, they’re the former rulers of Makeb, in a manner of speaking.”

“Not entirely then?”, asks Zal.

“Shalim Avesta was the President of the Avesta Mining Corporation and Chairman of the Business Council prior to the hutt’s subversion. For all intents and purposes, he wore the Chief of State veil.”

A trend of anxiety floats over Zal’s features, as she strokes her chin.  
“It’s definitely a troublesome development. Much of our mission here is incomplete and the chances that Havoc skulks about on the same plateaus as us, are not inconceivable – we could regrettably bump into one another and they’re an undeniable threat.  
I do wonder what they might seek from Avesta…”

“Makeb is, at this exact moment, not an official member of the Republic Senate, or its domains”, Katha reaffirms.

“But now, it would appear they’ve gained fresh perspectives”, posits Cierah. All of it spells bad weather for the Empire.  
“Moreover, there are inconclusive reports of Jedi sightings.”

This gets the attention of both women. Zal now taps her chin.  
“Dare I ask for names?”

“There are none. To date.”  
Zal creases her brow with unease, an element Cierah both heeds and gains red flags from.  
“Wrath, if you’re mulling over-“

“I wasn’t”, she retorts sternly. “Merely disturbed by the idea of Force user intervention.”

“Sure you were.” Cierah’s voice is flat, but blatantly unconvinced.

In the middle of this, Katha can’t begin to decipher the personal and social factors of this clash, nor does she want to. Best to crack on.  
“It might be worth the effort to pursue avenues of increased information gathering. What we’ve accumulated so far won’t be enough to take advantage of anyhow.”

After a few seconds to ruminate on the statement, Cierah acquiesces.  
“Fair enough. On that front, my options carry a far more expansive range. I shall dispatch a few of our troops on reconnaissance, cover a broader and more calculated space. This is paramount to our task’s success.”

“Take who you deem fitting. Just make them count”, adds Zal.

“I have, and I will, each and every time.  
But while we’re skirting the topic, I have to confess that I had a run-in with the same Havoc months ago, in person. Sheer coincidence which ended in a non-hostile capacity and accord, but I store and memorize a few of their movements and firing emplacements. Could probably replicate it in order to formulate proactive strategies against.”

“I don’t see why not – by all means. Bring them to Cytharat and perhaps he will provide insight to perfect them.  
Although, it’s likely worth mentioning I’ve had the distinct ‘pleasure’ of enjoying their company as well, even if it was a few years ago now…”

Cierah suddenly stares at her suspiciously.  
“…you have? And when, specifically, were you going to let us in on this?”

Zal does not back off or welcome any guilt.  
“I don’t know, Cipher. When were you?”, she inquiries sarcastically.

“…fair point. I guess we can move on from there then, onto the favorable news. It does, however, have a certain bearing on the former. I have managed to discover who was officially put in charge of the New Empire’s forces and procedures on the planet – Darth Zhorrid.”

Once more, her companions are brought to temporary silence, though this time out of being surprised.  
“Unexpected”, remarks Zal.

“…those are the good news?”, inquires Katha in a tentative voice.

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Without fail”, Cierah ensures. “Saridme’s files render it unambiguous.”

“Hmm. In my eyes, this suggests that the planet is of substantial weight to Malgus…or utterly meaningless.”

“Indeed, but it is advantageous for us in a way.”

Out of the three, only Katha is bewildered.  
“Uh, pardon my bluntness, commander, but how in the Emperor’s name can it be a positive or useful facet, that they have a Darth on this world? Because to me, it’s unhinging.”

Cierah breathes out casually, yet again underwhelmed by her subordinates lack of foresight or depth.  
“Don’t sound the alarm so hastily, miss Niar. I can read and predict Zhorrid’s mind and tactics with seasoned accuracy. I did at one point work for the woman, in a set number of months. And not to forget, she nurses a never-ending grudge against me, which is a menu to exploit.  
Zhorrid is erratic, volatile, aggressive and more than any other trait, she doesn’t conduct herself with patience when pushed. We can capitalize upon this misstep on their part, goad her into fumbling – which you can take my word for, is not the toughest challenge in the galaxy.”

It’s not seldom that Cierah exudes a severe degree of confidence, but in this discrete occasion, it’s nearly overflowing.  
“I’m willing to believe you”, Zal tells her, “but we will require scouts to nab further details before I’m ready to greenlight it.”

“Naturally, I won’t dispute the caution. But at least now, we have beneficial angles to shape into executional functions.”

“That remains to be seen.”

While still venting marks of being overworked, Katha turns her chair and resumes clicking her terminal.  
“If it’s of such instrumental value, I shall get on this auxiliary task immediately. It would presumably be prudent if-”

Her line stops flat, as one of Zal’s hands lands on her forearm.  
“In due time. For now, go back to your cabin and get some rest.”

Katha looks up at the taller woman, a deed she would implement whether she was sitting or not.  
“My lord, you exaggerate. I’m fine. Besides, this responsibility calls for all manpower we can-“

“Get some sleep, Niar. That’s an order.”

Zal voices her mandate with a compassionate undertone, a fact Katha genuinely appreciates. She is a caring commander, which, in the Empire, is a novel notion. And to think this is the Emperor’s Wrath…  
“I-…if you insist, Lord Wrath.”

The twi’lek flashes a tiny smile.  
“I do. We need you and the whole team at full strength in the morning. Good night, miss Niar.”


	70. Splintered philosophies (part 03)

The mission on Makeb continues in the face of adversity, resisting all ideas of allowing attrition to rip their resolve apart, as they strive to secure this world for the Empire.  
A few days after the gnarly encounter with hutt forces on another platform, the commandeered orbital station has reverted to a reasonably restored and functional state for all previously injured personnel.

The whole affair was rather sobering for some, exquisitely so for Lord Cytharat, being downed and all but killed off by the pitiless and unemotional bolts of the droids which had ensnared his team, even if short-lived. By now, he has rested and recuperated, resuming his active status for the task force. Well, semi-active – he has not been deemed fit for fighting just yet and Lord Wrath has consequently assigned him chiefly to handle tactical advice. It is his main department anyhow.

Currently, the pureblood is inspecting the latest incoming reports from the operatives deployed by Commander Draconius. From the look of things, the team is prevailing with their designated mission, though slowly, more so than those back home would recommend. But perhaps it’s for the best – if they rush headlong into this, all they’ll produce is another fiasco and the Empire has enough of those at this stage. They desperately need a victory.

While devoted to his task, he’s not so buried into it that he doesn’t notice the doors of his provisional office sliding open for a guest. Almost as if having foreseen it, Cytharat is unruffled by the view of Lakorev languidly strolling inside. Who else would come around with such frequency?  
“Apprentice Lakorev. More reports to deliver?”

The chiss shapes a small, yet moderately cordial and charming smile.  
“Not this time. Just here to check on our good Military Offense proxy.”

“Per Lord Wrath’s orders?”

“Not exactly. Assumed you might be feeling a tad lonely in here.”

Cytharat releases a brief chuckle, no more than an emission of air, really.  
“It’s superfluous. I can fend for myself.”

“Hmm, not that I doubt your self-sufficiency, my lord, but I shall have to insist. I might be far from your superior, in all codes of imperial protocol, but my status as the operation commander’s apprentice still stands and she expects me to reinforce her network.”

Even though he’s loath to, Cytharat has to grant an admission.  
“I suppose denying this angle would be foolish. I would never disobey Lord Wrath’s will.”  
Nor can he really refuse Lakorev, should he honestly request a visit. And this wouldn’t be fully out of etiquette pretexts. He does find the chiss agreeable.  
“And I don’t mind the company. So, stay, if you would.”

“Not getting in your way, then?”

“If you were, the cues to observe would have been severely implicit.”

Crossing his arms and leaning back against the table, Lakorev wears a very pleased expression.  
“Well, if that’s the case, you’re in for a real treat.”

“Treat? Did you have plans in place for us?”

“Well…not that I have a whole day of entertainment in store or anything, but my schedule is, as it stands, clean and ready for commissions.”

Cytharat’s smiles are never of any great dimensions, though it is undoubtedly gratifying to witness them, due to their rarity.  
“And this wouldn’t be for a deliberate absence of responsibilities, would it?”

The chiss lifts his hands to appear innocent.  
“Hmm? Me? I would never shirk my obligations, Lord Cytharat. You don’t presume to suggest I possess the nerve to relegate them onto our non-Sith personnel, simply out of a desire to meet with you in private?”

“Perish the thought”, Cytharat states evenly, with underlying humor.

The apprentice smirks, nudging his elbow into the other Sith’s arm.  
“At any rate, before we submerge ourselves in recreational activities, I have to assess your condition.”

“Assess?” Cytharat shakes his head. “Lengthier inspections or checkups are unwarranted. The local physician has already verified my health as adequate and recovering, albeit he did not clear me for active mission duty.”

“To your chagrin?”, Lakorev asks smugly.

“…quite. He counseled rest and…delicacy.”

“Don’t push your luck, more or less.”

“Ultimately, yes, which I take as sage advice. The bolts did tear me open rather acutely back there and being remiss of that truth is deluded and harmful.”

He receives a short nod from Lakorev.  
“Well, I won’t question your mobility or capabilities to any extensive degrees, but I do wonder how you’re able to sustain yourself in the ongoing precarious dilemma.”

Not a stance Cytharat had anticipated, and therefore arches his eyebrow perplexedly.  
“Dilemma? What are you referring to, more specifically?”

Hoping to hide another wry slant on his face, Lakorev disengages from the table and paces in the center of the room.  
“Well, it must be terribly drab sitting in here, staying in solitude for hours on end with no course to reach out and tag along on all the jeopardy we’re experiencing. Must eat at you for not being there at my side.”

Ah, naturally, this would be the angle he seizes. Cytharat should’ve predicted it. Lakorev is invariably a sly man. Might as well play along.  
“It is…a source of some concern, yes. More so the worry than the dullness, however.”

“Then you’re in luck, for I was dispatched to this section in order to lighten some of the secluded load you’ve endured. In addition to bringing you up to speed on key developments of our operations.”

“Dispatched? Your master sent you here? I thought you said that your schedule was empty.”

“Well, that was…a trimmed version of the situation, with the bare essentials. Not her exact words either, but she did instruct me to keep everyone in the loop, maintain an eye open for mysterious activity and so on.”

“And this brought you into my chamber?”

Lakorev sizes the pureblood up and shrugs, some mischief descending over his features.  
“Given your shape and in the interest of safeguarding us from any informational deficiencies, yes. I thought you and I could…discuss tactics, my lord.”

Cytharat tilts his head with a hint of curiosity, wondering what the other man has on his mind.  
“Any concrete formations or paradigms in particular?”

“Indeed.” The apprentice pulls out a datapad from his robes and sticks to the table again. “I was researching your iteration of the Karvhas’ Tongue setup and found it woefully bereft of the respectable dose of passion, which such a formula should require.”

A chuckle and a shake of his head follows.  
“How unfortunate. Was there some revisions you had prepared for presentation?”

“Something to that effect, yes.” Another step brings the two into relative intimacy and Lakorev strokes one of his hands delicately over the pureblood’s arm.  
“Some simple adjustments I’d like for you to consider.”

One thing that Cytharat can’t say is that Lakorev is subtle about his intents. The Lord has not yet determined what his conclusion of it should be.  
“You are very…forward.”

This prompts Lakorev’s red eyes to regard him with more care.  
“Would you prefer that I pen an elaborate mail in advance of delivering the request?”

“That…was not what I-“

“Maybe make a formal inquiry to my master, to appeal for permission?”

“Hah. Don’t be silly. I am not so extremely conservative. But you should realize what you’re suggesting as well. As of right now, we are colleagues and the space for intimate measures here are not of a large margin. Nor are the opportunities for development.”

Lakorev’s interest does not wane, nor does his facetious attitude.  
“And who spoke of development? Not exactly implying that we ignite any lasting concepts here. It’s fairly straightforward – we are both two men with no shortage of avid desire and ardor. Shouldn’t we be allowed to act on such sensibilities, especially as Sith?”

Not an altogether baseless perspective. His read on Sith social barriers is unerring and the conceit itself is…of valid articulation. Cytharat dares to consider the proposal and weighs on its up and downsides. He should treat this subject with the utmost discretion and contemplation…but if Lakorev can be playful, then why shouldn’t he?  
“I see. And a mere apprentice believes he’s satisfactory to fulfill my carnal demands, does he?”, the pureblood teases.

Lakorev eagerly confronts this fabricated resistance, taking a poignant step closer.  
“Oh, I may be an apprentice, but in…physical condition, I am exquisitely adept.”

“Is that so? You will have to demonstrate this to me.”

While staring into Cytharat’s eyes for emphasis, he puts a hand down to his own belt, unbuckling it.  
“You wish to evaluate my adaptability, I take it?”

The pureblood’s eyes scours the sight before him, waiting as the robe goes wide open.  
“And your…collaborating functions, to make sure they provide the adequate proportions of stimuli.”

“That’s practically my second name, my lord.”

“You aren’t deceiving me, are you, apprentice? I was told chiss names do not operate that way.”

“How alert of you.”

With the intentions and yearnings being overt to both, Lakorev sees no more necessity for beating around the bush or being excessively gentle. He drops off his coat on the floor – though still wearing a shirt – places a hand on the table and leans towards Cytharat. Getting on his feet to accommodate the advance, the Lord soon ends up with his back against one of the nearby walls, fully aware and not the slightest opposed to these movements, nor the hand slowly drifting up his side. This isn’t a one-sided attraction, as they’ve both exuded inarguable signals as to where they desire to take this matter and if it is ready for the next stage, though it’s been hard to know exactly when and how to act on it.

However, Cytharat still carries some minor misgivings, not the least that this isn’t exactly a wholly private station, nor area within the installation.  
“Not that I’m afraid to take risks, but are you willing to weather condemnations and scolding, in case anyone discovers what we’re doing?”

“Condemnation, you say?”  
Lakorev gets the gist of the message, though it’s a little premature and presumptuous. Just to be safe, he glances around the vicinity, until he spots a device further up one of the walls – a camera. Not here to monitor them per se, merely one of several installed in this structure. Lakorev raises and waves his hand, cutting power to the machine and granting them some much craved privacy, at least for now. As an ancillary action, he also makes sure to access the mechanism which initiates the door lock.  
“Better?”

Cytharat smiles once more and snorts, letting Lakorev feel the breath on his skin.  
“You are persistent.”

“Just driven and uninhibited. We share a wish in the depths of our minds, a flame. Why ignore it?”

“An elaborate way to put it.”

He lets his fingers brush over Cytharat’s facial tendrils protruding from the chin, squeezing them affectionately, while the pureblood’s hand now reaches for Lakorev’s sides, at the hem of the shirt, gazing into the lightly glowing eyes.  
“I’m a poetic lover.”

“Your arguments are…solid”, the Lord concedes.

“So are other parts of me as well.”

Cytharat is made to laugh delicately, one of the few freedoms he’s allowed himself.  
“Is this the moment where I-“

But he gains no further ground, as Lakorev reacts quicker. He closes in and locks their lips together, running a hand into the other man’s hair, as Cytharat’s own flickers in a rush under the shirt and over the toned body beneath it. Fingers caress and squeeze, exhilarated breaths and anxious gasps are emitted, but no words are necessary for the coming hours, as they can express themselves with far better physical cues. The only leads that are disclosed whatsoever are for those with keen enough sense for the Force, who might detect oscillating emotions and a swell of passion.

* * *

  
In the morning, relatively speaking, as Lakorev exits the room alone, only wearing his pants and a shirt, in order to get them some rations to eat and two mugs of tea, he hears footsteps by the entrance of the makeshift kitchen. It just so happens to be Zal’riva, reading a report on her datapad. The chiss coughs slightly and Zal glances up, gives him a nod. Nothing suspicious unloaded at him at first, at least until he notes how her lekku twitch with interest.

“You and Cytharat were absent much of yesterday.”

“Was there a meeting?”

“There was, which I informed everyone of.”

Lakorev continues to pour the tea, so he won’t have to bring his awkward exterior to light.  
“Ah, must’ve slipped our minds. Easy blunder.”

Zal slowly arches her brow at the ‘our’ aspect.  
“I see. Any particular reason for this truancy? Perhaps a shared cabin?”

“There are no cabins in this station, master.”

“Don’t deflect me. The concept stands.”

Lakorev shrugs nonchalantly.  
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, master. We were simply debating the intricacies of our tactics.”

“All afternoon and night?”

“As a matter of fact, we were.”

Wrinkles emerges over Zal’s brow as she stares at him with more gravity.  
“I find that hard to believe. Anything actually worthwhile which I’d like to hear about, then?”

“It depends. Our foremost topics were proximity, as well as mentions of flexibility and physical coordination.”

Zal eases on the heat and sighs heftily.  
“…you are terrible.”

The smirk he’s prone to wearing, resurges with a cheeky edge.  
“You’re just jealous I get to have all the fun, while you go dry.”

“Shut that nonsense down now, or I will do it for you.”

“Whatever you wish, master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This pairing won't take much more space than this. It's no more than a fling_


	71. Splintered philosophies (part 04)

An impulse lodges into her, an ideal, a dream which in turn sows the premise for an outcome that she hadn’t in preceding weeks been willing to entertain inroads of, but perhaps, just maybe, she had the erroneous frame of mind at that particular instance.  
Could she not let it burn? Set the entire world ablaze, let the oceans boil and the spires melt, crumble into the depths of the core and the very fabric of its essence join the nascent stars as dust in the galaxy. They would hear her then, wouldn’t they? All of them would. They’d have no choice, for she had crushed every ounce of their gambits and conspirations behind her, to put their unregulated commitments firmly in her grasp.  
Wishful thinking, at best.

While the co-opted orbital station is bustling with commotion and exertion, as well as constantly on alert, it is not the only area on this altitude – so to speak – which is in a hectic state. There are cruisers, carriers and frigates circling and drifting above its skies, poised as they lie in wait for any manner of data from the planet’s thick layer of distortion. A lot is at stake and so answers are pivotal to disperse the opaque imagined miasma.

The greater collection of the vessels are hutt ships, with varying slugs at the wheel – or at least as the voice behind the helmsmen – but there are also a sample of revamped imperial crafts. One of them comprise a grab bag of former imperial officers and navy personnel, headed up not merely by a Sith, but the liege lady of this quadrant in their space herself – Darth Zhorrid. Former Dark Councilor, daughter to former Dark Councilor Darth Jadus and wanted for high treason by the Sith Empire. Facts she persistently remind herself of. Truly persistent – daily, in fact.

At present, she’s situated at one of the ship’s assortment of windows; more defined, they belong to her very office. She’s beholding the stars, the vehicles and her object of unfailing irritation, which plagues her every waking thought – Makeb. A planet of conundrums, fortunes and obscurity.  
When she was first posted here, Zhorrid envisioned a juncture for her to ratify past discrepancies, to validate her participation in this newfound state and reap a modicum of glory.

The hutts would as ever prove to be a stymieing variable, she was more than vigilant of this, yet at some level she clearly took the slugs too lightly, undervalued their conniving procedures.  
Without glancing in the direction, she reaches out with both her hand and her mind to a nearby steel table, which carries a cup of piping hot Bosthirda-based tea that she brought with her from her former home, one of the few commodities she could stow away with. Smells of citrus and blossoming shivarra flowers. Its heat down her throat approximates a cleansing.

With the mug to her lips, she perceives an impending presence progressing towards her chamber, though she knows this doesn’t give grounds for anxiety, as it is one of her advisors, one of the mainstays which have stood loyal and true.  
The attendant and advisor, a pale human in dark long clothes, treads into her chambers on light feet, ceasing several meters away, reverts his hands to his back and kneels. The visage he absorbs is narrowly dissimilar, as his master is clothed in dark grey and red robes intermingled with a white scarf holding a single violet line at its center and slim black cloth gloves over her hands. She has never had any fondness for cosmetics over her pallor traits and bear none now either. Not that he would notice, as her back is to him.

“Darth Zhorrid, your eminence, I bring news from your hidden eyes and ears, embedded in the vessels of the hutts.”

The Sith doesn’t reply in a flash, granting herself time to quietly reflect. She bides and digests another sip of tea, letting its flagrant flavors storm through her interior, stir her thoughts and sensory functions, in order to steel herself for the unalterable. She knows this sequence won’t be overly pleasant, it rarely is when the hutts are included in the equation, but she has little other recourse in the matter. It’s not as if coordinating with them inside the New Empire is what brought her to this estimate, for it should instead be attributed to her experiences in years past.  
Taking a trip down memory lane, she can evoke the stints her father brought her with to Nar Shaddaa and – yet worse – Nal Hutta, becoming subject to their fetid air and decadent lifestyles. The sour aroma it intrinsically generates inspires a compulsion for a secondary sip, to wash it all away.

“Proceed”, she decrees.

“The intel your spies shared is in irrefutable disparity with the reports delivered to us from official hutt channels. Much of the real ongoings down on the surface is apparently being omitted and more often than not, the hutts command their servants to withhold any compromising or profitable details. The data for all this is already in your devices, should you wish to review them for yourself. It would seem they still distrust you, Dark Lord.”

“Alternatively, they conspire against me”, she interrupts.

He pauses for but a moment, before inclining his head in reverence.  
“As you say.”

This charade does not stump her in the least, but it does infuriate her. It’s nothing short of insulting, and not purely for the ruse either, certified as it may be. The scenario is all too reminiscent of the Dark Council’s transgressions. Just like those elitist, despicable degenerates, the hutts write her off as postal and undermine her authority. She shouldn’t stand for it a second time around. She won’t.

Seeing their ships outside her window, floating about as if mocking her management, saturates her with boundless indignation to the level where it grows physical. In sections of her room, out of thin air, vibrations kick off as the Force scatters frantically from the foundation of her being. Luckily for the advisor, who was finding the air draped over him more arduous to resist, she has to focus and not shatter her resolve.

She manages to restrain her boiling urges and go forward.  
“What has my agents actually accomplished, beyond slander from the hutts? It doesn’t avail me much in terms of a rejoicing outlook, now does it?”

“N…no, my lord”, he stammers and then proceeds. “You will be pleased to hear not all is lush on hutt turfs. By the words of our-… _your_ agents, they are suffering grievances from an as of yet unidentified enemy.”

For the first time since he entered, he garners her full attention, as she circles to him.  
“Unidentified?”

“From what we have construed of the files, all of their explorations into the phenomenon have gone awry and they are at a loss as to how to unravel the mystery.  
Contact was severed with the base of a Saridme the Hutt – a comparatively low-tier player in the grand scheme of things. When a second Regulator contingency arrived, without exception, there was no one left alive. They were all missing or killed.  
A similar fate befell the central station for Tilvaari the Hutt’s operations, as well as one of the adjunct research centers, which was sabotaged and rendered bereft of data.”

A full-fledged subversion enterprise, then. If it wasn’t transpiring on this dissociated world, during her reign, she might’ve been amenable to rule this one as a corporate misconduct, a minor player shaving off the top of the hutt’s prizes. Naturally, as these factors are incorporated, she must expel the notion.  
“What are the slimy cretins doing as a response?”

“As of present, nothing abundant. They aren’t in panic yet and their foremost suspicions are funneled towards militant Makeb dissenters, citizens who refuse to stand down with the rest of the planet.”

Militant citizens? Zhorrid’s brow twists. This inference has a small chance of striking true. It does come off as if they’re confronted with an esoteric conundrum, but with the hutts, one can never be too sure. She would classify those rapacious fools as incompetent, all the way.  
“Hmm. But if they labeled this target of theirs as ‘unknown’, does it allude to the Republic being stricken as a suspect?”

“Ah, allow me to clarify, my lord – the Republic are conducting their own assaults, but they’re not synonymous. Theirs are easier to enumerate, but not counteract. Allegedly.  
This shadowy enemy is a great deal cleverer, and insidious. They operate stealthily, swiftly and methodically to acquire knowledge and then eradicate all traces of their intrusion. It’s almost awe-inspiring.”

Zhorrid frowns, clenching her fingers over the handle of her mug.  
“Do not speak such nonsense in my vicinity, wretch”, she snaps. “I will not stand here listening to entranced gibberish related to envying our enemy’s deeds, do you hear me?”

Her advisor jolts and shrinks down.  
“Y-yes…absolutely, my lord. I spoke out of turn. A thousand apologies for this folly. I-it won’t be repeated, this I vow.”

The Sith Lord above him catches a decelerated and prudent breath, reestablishing her center, prior to composing herself and indifferently waving her hand.  
“We shall wait and see. Now, continue your report.”

“There is nothing else, my lord. Hitherto, it’s tough to conjecture a working theory. We can suspect and presuppose, but it doesn’t facilitate much in way of deduction, which is our present strain. The hutts are wallowing in the same seat.”

From the sound of things, purportedly, the hutts are tangled with a bigger drawback than they’re obliging to acknowledge. She suspends her mug under her nose, rotating it just a nudge.  
“Orbital sensors, have they detected anything relevant?”

“Negative, my lord. Due to atmospheric interference of the planet, no such scans would contribute much. It is an obstacle for direct engagement as well.”

Such a maelstroms of concerns, none of which her so-called allies have even endeavored to bring before her. She redirects her gaze to the window yet again.  
“Hmm.”

Her advisor dares to lift his own to his master.  
“May I solicit you for your impressions at this stage, my lord?”

“With this fledgling crisis on the agenda, I’m contemplating to touch down on the planet in person. It’s transparent that the Cartel won’t be outplaying this emergency if left alone. Needless to say, I can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that the perpetrators here could very well be our old Empire. To me, it’s the most realistic answer and additionally, they are the ones with the arsenal and knowhow to succeed.”

On the floor, the advisor tentatively rubs his hands together.  
“My lord, respectfully, I…wouldn’t assert that it’s unfeasible, but it is...farfetched. We’ve been monitoring their movements. Their manpower is stretched thin and supplies are going on barren. A venture like this must take a lavish quantity to actualize.”

Idiot. She huffs scornfully at his prognosis.  
“Such ignorance. So presumptions, not to mention wasteful. The Empire, especially agents of the former Imperial Intelligence, have achieved far grander feats with much less. Believe me, we should not overlook this prediction.”

“If that is your desire, my lord…then so be it.  
All the same, the hutts have conveyed a constant insistence that your personal input on any business affecting Makeb’s minute duties is extraneous.”

She groans in light disgust.  
“You don’t trust I’m conscious of this already? My ‘interference’ would destabilize their little scheme and they can’t have that. But I shall not enable them to derail me from exposing their subterfuge and pull the plug on the whole game.”

“That is…a commendable strategy, my lord, but a word to the wise – at this time, their forces are level with ours. To dismantle the balance, if you wish, we could call in Emperor Malgus.”

More distrust? Truly, no one in her pastures, not even her primary reliable minions, have faith in her abilities. She must refute them.  
“No, not now. I will outmaneuver them on my own. All it warrants is to play it smart.  
Besides, I have considered the same course of action and soliciting him for more ships is a foolhardy choice for now, as he won’t provide any. If I fail here, explicitly if bested by the hutts, he might…make an example of me. At least I would, in his position. And I shall not be a victim, ever.”  
She folds her arms below her chest and hoists her cup for one of the final sips.  
“We will persevere here on my ship. Maintain rigorous supervision on the hutts. Do not let those maggots get away with anything underhanded. In the meantime, I’ll work on neutralization options for when they grow essential.”


	72. Splintered philosophies (part 05)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is one of those chapters where it's beneficial to have read "The Precipice Of Division", as it stars my togruta Trooper, Reezah, as well as my miraluka Jedi Consular, Iron'zeranz. Iron already appeared in a very early part, I believe, but Reezah has yet to pop up in this particular story. Chiefly as this is like, a fic focusing on the imperial side of things, naturally. Both of them will have slightly more prominent roles in upcoming fics. You know, if I continue this laboriously slow series._   
>  _Their likenesses can be found on that blog link back at the start._

The Jedi Order. To Major Reezah Hiktesh, commanding officer of Havoc squad, that flock of mystical menagerie will always be a riddle. Not in so much that she’s exceptionally curious as to the inner answer of what they represent, but rather the puzzlement it fills her with of why they’re grouped with the Republic, or vice versa.  
How long ago was it now, that she was first assigned to a task force containing a Jedi adjunct? As far back as the eras pertaining to her earliest tours, she expects.

By and large amid the Republic army, it’s become a staple, a systematic default to have Force users as reinforcements and cosmic soldiers, to a degree where many troopers hardly blink at their emergence anymore. The majority may cheer and celebrate the synergy, for having one at a squad’s disposal allots a value of relief and denotes a ward from darker spirits. Conversely, Reezah knows better than the common grunt, that utilizing one also signals an impending peril. Jedi are not safeguards from the Sith, they’re magnets or flytraps.

She wouldn’t allege to be a Force buff or even a novice, but if there’s one aspect that she has become terribly educated in, it’s that the two ends of that spectrum are in a continuous woven wheel. Can’t have one without the other. It’s why she, without fumbling or questioning herself, calculate a margin of error and enact special routines in every instance where she is ordered to cooperate with one. Sooner or later, a storm will brew, and they must be on standby to tether themselves from its devouring ripples.

A number of weeks ago, Reezah was approached by Supreme Chancellor Saresh with a new mission – hit the planet Makeb, infiltrate its Hutt Cartel defense grid and make contact with the ousted corporate government. Up until then, she had view it as a challenge, not a lost hope.  
Her conviction, and authority, was somewhat shaken and rocked by the news that she and her fireteam wouldn’t be charged with covering the proceedings alone. They’d receive aid from none other than a member of the Jedi High Council. ‘Swell’.

Reezah isn’t one to advertise ill temper, and so, silently, she had crossed her fingers that it would be Ktila. The Major wasn’t looped in on whether the chiss had been elevated to that tier, but they had partnered prosperously in previous sessions.  
Her hopes had been cracked, when a later message to her had sketched out the procedure of Ktila’s departure from the Jedi Order. The galactic winds surge in flaky directions.

In lieu of her pick, she got anchored with a miraluka, master Iron’zeranz or the ‘Barsen’thor’ as she titled herself as, whatever that’s supposed to connote. Some big shot in the Order? Far from Satele Shan, anyway. Far from Ktila.  
Weeks into their partnership, the conjoint operations have come along…decently. Iron is incontrovertibly proficient, intelligent and strategic. She’s a seasoned fighter, a virtual tidal wave in many senses, of that there is no doubt.

Everything isn’t sunshine and rainbows, though. Iron, while effective and reliable in battle, can at best be described as troublesome in scenarios that warrant privacy. In spirit, she’s a classic Jedi, advocating meditation, prudence and discipline, as to not let the hurricane of blasterfire and ailing screams overtake you, which is a philosophy Reezah can get behind. But she’s also in possession of a pushier backdrop, one that treasures a strict regimen, minimization and frugality, and is fond of endorsing it onto others. It isn’t sufficient to call her overbearing, but the doctrine does tick Reezah off a bit. She just wants to be left to ply her trade her way.

Whatever their differences, they do produce results when progressing in tune. Despite her demure surface, Iron is a tempest of kinetic energy, often brandishing a dual-bladed yellow-tinted lightsaber and a drawing on her Force gifts to erect physical shields constructed of materials in her vicinity, with Reezah empowering her with raw strength, methodical aim and explosive munitions.

This well-oiled machinery is exactly what was called upon for their current subtask. Upon touching down, their preliminary objective comprised performing reconnaissance and evaluation of the planet’s status and chat up the Avesta family, learn what they have to say for the planet’s population finally desiring an induction into the galactic network.  
Turns out, this cry for aid was partially a front, a little bit of bait and switch. They knew the Republic is graciously open to new diplomatic channels and in their plight, this was the lone card to play.

Upon establishing the nature of the crisis, they came to a horrid realization – the world was collapsing in on itself, with nearly all of the blame falling on the Cartel’s reckless and voracious mining of its core. Confronted with the repercussion of total annihilation, a single judgment was all they could tap – get the entire population of Makeb off-world at all costs.  
This is the goal they’ve been going at for the last few weeks, which invariably has not been a painless venture. Not only is this world a sparse one, without greater landmasses, but making an exit from it is mind-blowingly laborious. Following numerous in-person surveys, they secured an option – the hutts were constructing a gargantuan rocket, destined to house their resources and caches of isotope-5 that they were leeching from the planet. Now, it’s been modified to scuttle almost all the planet’s people in one go.  
The rub is, they haven’t acquired the staff to finish it yet. The hutts have jailed a whole lot of qualified engineers and scientists, to keep them out of the reach of the Republic. Freeing them is at the top of the to-do list.

At present, Reezah is co-heading a particular effort to escort an ensemble of said personnel that had been abducted. In the wake of toppling the hutt forces at the prison facility and breaking them out, the data they snatched from various data slots unveiled that the motives of this pervasive incarceration may not be as clear-cut, but the actual basis is as of yet undetermined. Then again, intents are of small concern anyhow, as the liberation will facilitate the evacuation process. They can figure out the who’s and what’s once they’re in the clear.  
Would that it had been so easy. Should’ve foreseen that the hutts wouldn’t let this go without a response.

The team is on its way back to their transport vehicle, herding the civilians in between them, when Reezah abruptly spots a gleaming in the sky.  
“Incoming!”

A vehicle that she can identify as a dropship comes in for a flyby, but deploys no flesh-and-blood troops, but instead an array of metallic inventions, of all sizes – droids. By the look of the shining metal and the high-grade weaponry, it’s not just any either. They’re fueled by isotope-5, she absolutely knows it. Havoc and master Iron’s team have wrangled with Regulators, Cartel stooges and a multiplex of automated brigades, but none of them holds a candle to the obstinance of these infuriating bots. The inherent power spikes of isotope-5 lends itself to making room for upgrades in defensive systems, rounds per minute, more robust plates, and internal tracking and accuracy functionalities. All of it can be jammed into droids without costing mountains of energy or stymieing the rest, wholly thanks to the substance. If the Republic could’ve gotten their hands on it…

They’ll have to lament resource deficits at a later date. With blaster fire licking their backs, the Republic contingent retreats. This mesa is not the ideal location for environmental barricades, but it is not lacking for sporadic placements of hills and stony nooks.  
“Civilians, in behind the rocks!”, she barks. “Elara, Yuun, keep ‘em safe. Forex, Jorgan, take up firing positions on the eastern and western slopes. Vik, you’re with me. Pop the lid off one of your rockets.”

The weequay grins gleefully, discerning precisely what such an order will entail. The rest efficiently sprint to their individual posts, but Aric is the first to level an objection over the comms.  
“Sir, we’ll be pinned down if we stick to this corner. We have to press a gap in their line and disengage on the double.”

“What do you think this is, Jorgan? Wasn’t planning a weekend picnic over here. Now get blasting!”

As Havoc retaliates with a hailstorm of Republic high-caliber firepower, the affiliated Jedi-led squad is a tad more languid. Iron does dispatch Lieutenant Iresso and the sniper Zenith to assist Jorgan and M1-4X, as well as Qyzen to bolster Elara, while permitting her padawan Nadia to unfetteredly strike out on her own, but the Jedi Master personally aligns with the Major. Seems she has a few words for the togruta.

“Major, some advice. I would take care as you strike these droids. We may wish to keep a few intact.”

As handy as Iron is to have available, brevity and mission imperatives are not her strong suits at any turns. While they’re trying to work out an exit strategy, she is not conveying even one trace of being in a hurry.  
“You mind explaining why the hell we’d wanna delay right this moment? We have to extract these people, master Zeranz.”

“A measure I am not contesting, but these droids are vessels for isotope-5, a remarkably rare substance. I share your drive to retreat, but we also have an obligation to investigate our enemies, to explore the degree of their decimation and power-conservation capabilities.”

Reezah almost can’t believe what she’s being subject to. Bolts whizzes above their hands, centimeters from grazing them. The Major reflexively clutches Iron’s shoulder and yanks her to the ground. Not what she had decided if she wasn’t running on impulses, nor is the Jedi predisposed to require it.  
“I know you like your reading, but we don’t have time for research retrieval.”

“This is for the good of the Republic.”

“Look, I’ll put up with a truckload of your philosophical rambling and insights on our enemy’s conduct once we get back to base, but whatever you’re imagining about the analysis gains of remaining here, I’m not risking the lives of these people – brainpower we need to get the hell off this planet, in case you’d neglected it – or the integrity of our immediate mission, to claim it. Get your priorities in gear, Jedi.”

“Do not be rash, Major.”

Rash. How many days in a row has she heard that word now? Iron hasn’t illustrated to possess a taste for snap decisions or ‘rash’ tactics, as is what she deems Reezah’s machinations more often than not. They are gradually getting cornered here, in this scenario. Stalling will only cost them.  
_“Rash?_ Listen here, _Jedi_ – we don’t have a legion of forces at our beck and call for when things turn south, let alone to withdraw a heap of scrap for some kinda experiment. How exactly do you figure that we-“  
She doesn’t have the gap to complete her sentence, as a few of the smaller droids have caught up to speed of where they were hunkering.  
“Down!”, she shouts and levels her rifle to fire a burst of bolts at the closest target, in ahead of getting fire descending upon their own seats. This isn’t a superlative angle to launch a defensive maneuver from, and the droids likely factored that in. Clever tinheads.

“Boss, I’m still gearing up over here”, she catches the weequay’s raspy voice from behind. “You mind?”

Reezah fires another salvo, as the droids' reprisal attack slams into the soil, inches away from her. She’s scoring some good hits, but they won’t go down easy. Could now be a decent time to toss one of her own fireballs? Doesn’t have a lot of thermal detonators left after the infiltration section of the mission, but…  
“Trying my best, Vik! Less chatter, more-“

Thankfully, support materializes seconds before she ever has a chance to prime one of her explosives. In the midst of her tug of war with the automated opposition, Iron practically vanished from view, like a living shadow, only to take shape once more at the aft of the enemy’s site. Her lightsaber severs the abdomen of one, but the body never even touches the ground, for she telekinetically grabs both pieces and lobs them as projectiles right onto its two allies, lending some of her energy for an extra effective crushing pressure.

Reezah spectates it all, her eyes widened only for a second or two, before she regains her concentration and guns down a duo of droids that were veering to spray the Jedi now that she was the more pertinent target.  
“Showoff”, she mutters to herself.  
“Thanks for the assist”, she says out loud.

From her position in the middle of the robotic carcasses, Iron inclines her head towards the togruta. Although calling it ‘sharing a look’ is probably an imprecise definition, by merit of miraluka’s shortage of eyes.  
“You underestimate the flexibility of the Force, Major. To dispatch carrier crews would be excessive. I shall tow these remnants out personally.”

“Whatever suits you, but don’t get cocky. We’re not out of the woods yet”, she declares and points one of her lekku towards the largest pack of what remains, which the team is attempting to overcome.  
“These were just the starter course. Grab them for study if you’re keen to, but we’re putting down the rest the Havoc way. Vik, how’s that rocket coming along?”

She peeks over her shoulder, noticing how the weequay has now mounted the weapon and clicks away at some of its controls.  
“Almost set, boss. Just a couple o’ corrections left and then…”

But this day would not end in such a simplified manner. Over the radio, as well as in the air, they hear Elara’s voice.  
“Major, we require assistance! Additional forces inbound!”

The sound of her second-in-command, plus girlfriend, sways Reezah to instantly cut in their direction at the tail end of the barricades. From above a set of cliffs a few hundred meters afield, a dozen more machines leap and make landfall. Where the hell did they come from? Did they really climb across the pillars to get here?  
“Shit. Vik, stay here. I’ll regroup with Elara.”

“Major”, Iron calls out. “We cannot divide our company any further to-“

But Reezah stopped listening as soon as the first word left the Jedi’s lips and enters a desperate bolting phase, readying her rifle for battle once more. They honestly took the hutts a shred too lightly here, didn’t they? How could they even have manufactured this many droids already? Or did the slugs have all of them constructed way ahead of time, ripe to be impregnated with the isotope-5 sustenance?

A dual vector is arguably the worst possible clash at this hour, when they’re sheltering a considerable chunk of noncombatants. Had it been any other circumstance, Havoc could’ve rolled with such punches and improvised, but here and now, they’re overreaching and expending their resources on too many fronts.

Imagine then their surprise as deliverance drops in unannounced. The ambush droid detail is suddenly ambushed all on their own, as frighteningly surgical sniper shots puncture the headpieces of two. This is followed by a thermal detonator being flung smack dab in the middle of the batch and its consequential explosion damaging two at minimum.  
The smoke has barely even dissolved, when a compressed beam of purple light cleaves it, along with at least three droids in brutal and decisive slashes. In concert, a second set of flanking assaults burst into the first group as well, none of it explained to the Republic what the source or purpose is.

Not being sluggish as this window is sprung, Iron charges into the main swarm with a Force-impelled gale, pursued by Nadia and Qyzen. On the fly, Iron absorbs substances from her surroundings – rocks, soil and scrap metal – forming them into a sustained barrier.  
Reezah isn’t happy being beset by so many question marks, but she acknowledges that this is a golden chance to peel out of here.

“Havoc, covering fire! Vik, where’s that heavy ordnance? Pop it at your leisure, preferably right away!”

“Can do”, Vik answers coolly over the comms, moments prior to a rocket thundering into the air and makes a beeline for the biggest of all the targets, a several meters tall four-legged behemoth. The rocket thrashes into it and the shockwave produced from the blast knocks a few of its allies to the ground.

Astutely, vigorously and impressively, the two clusters of fighters waylay and vanquish their contenders, bringing them low without any losses suffered. Well, more than they’d already incurred.  
In the ensuing dust, the Republic team scurries to unmask their saviors and is greatly shocked by the discovery. From the periphery spawns a sum of familiar figures. Iron is first to disturb the hush that had enveloped them.  
“Lord Wrath”, she states characteristically placid at the tall twi’lek wiping off her grey coat.

“Barsen’thor. Lovely hour for a get-together, isn’t it?”

“Whoa, hah”, Nadia exudes. “Long time no-…wait. Kira?”

“Nadia?”, replies the red-haired human, just as she sheathes her lightsaber. “Now this wasn’t who I expected to greet this morning.”

Despite the variables and the encompassing shock, Nadia still laughs, runs up and offers her friend a hug.  
“It’s so good to have you here with us! Where’ve you been? We assumed you and master Ktila wouldn’t run with us on this adventure.”

Kira does share in the embrace, but her expression distorts with disquiet nerves.  
“Uh, well…funny you shouldn’t mention that. Ktila isn’t around.”

For all her reservations and internal red flags, Reezah eclipses them and enrolls in the approach.  
“Much obliged, Vivees. But, truth be told, you and your posse were the last people I thought would come to our rescue. And you aren’t sporting a full complement, looks like.”

Amusement glints in Zal’s violet eyes as she dips her head in acknowledgment.  
“Fate isn’t always what it seems, Major. Our business wasn’t to be heroes, but I don’t regret what it led to.”

Iron is clasping her lightsaber yet, but it is no longer ignited. She gazes at the closing togruta.  
“You and Lord Wrath are acquainted, I take it?”

Reezah scratches her cheek contemplatively.  
“Uh, something along those lines, yeah. Knocked out a mission side by side a while back, courtesy of master Ktila. Anticipated us as mortal enemies. Final score, though…careful allies, I guess.”

“A fair assessment”, Zal concedes.

“My condition with her navigates a similar path”, Iron reveals. “But I have also preserved my ties with master Ktila after her desertion, who in turn is tightly affiliated with Lord Wrath.”

The twi’lek stops a couple of meters away from the two other women and folds her arms.  
“Hmm. Not sure ‘affiliated’ is the most fitting term, but gets the gist across.”

In the meantime, Nadia is still expressively pepped up by being in the presence of her friend.  
“I guess it’s a little cliché, but I’ve missed you, Kira. It’s been months! The amount you mail me is too low!”

Kira giggles, though she doesn’t decloak the fact that the lack of Nadia’s effusiveness in her daily life has left an unfilled social gorge for her too.  
“Well, my days tend to be kinda booked, ya know? Isn’t all fun and games for us out there on the frontier.”

“Bah! You’re saying it’s too busy for a simple mail or two a week? Not even you believe that.”  
Her attention is spontaneously diverted by the vision of a separate togruta clinging to Kira. Nadia tilts her head and blinks curiously.  
“Uh, hello? Who’s this?”

The Jedi knight peers over her shoulder, noting that the padawan has not stricken her sheepish tendencies.  
“Ah, heh. That’s uh…a real gizka hole of a situation.”

The topic does not reach its climax, for they are interceded impromptu by a voice in the far fringes of the locality, one that articulates with a dry imperial accent.  
“It’s ever so touching sitting here, watching Jedi reminisce and gush about their trivial existence, but we are on a tight schedule, so let us shorten the banality, shall we?”

All players on the field can zoom onto a disjunctive outfit of entities, far too colorful to be regular imperial ground pounders, but synchronized to the point where they nearly subconsciously engage their weapons together, focusing on the Republic units. In the fore is a pale-skinned human with black hair in a ponytail, kitted out with an equally black armor and a long sniper in her fingers.  
Iron whirls to face her, even if there is scant she can do from here firsthand. Alas, the Commander’s reflexes are too optimized to be overtaken.

“Do not even muse on the conceit of wresting the gun from me, Jedi”, she warns firmly, but moderately sedately at that.  
“My reflexes and aim are radically augmented by a plethora of cybernetic implants and digital instruments. I can lodge a bolt in your skull before you even fathom the thought to nullify it.”

Off on the left flank, Jorgan’s voice is imminent.  
“You’re not alone with a clear line of sight, one-eye. Don’t give me a reason.”

“Caution: I would advice a reduction in intrepid statements, when your fleshy cranium is sitting in my crosshairs as well”, leaves the speakers of a recognizable droid, directed at the cathar.

Had it been silent earlier, the atmosphere is now all but dead. A few civilians swallow their dread, as Havoc have their own armaments oriented resolutely on the imps that they are, strangely as it may appear, a known quantity of. Zal, on the other hand, groans and rolls her eyes.  
“Cierah…”

The one Rep that isn’t intensely squeezing a rifle is Reezah herself, who leans her own onto her shoulder.  
“Cipher Nine. We meet again.”

“Major. It is Major as of yet, isn’t it?”

The togruta gives off a faint laughter. The tone from the agent is ambiguous – could be genuine, could be taunting.  
“Yeah, no new promotion, I’m afraid.”

“A pity. Your service record would suggest you are due for another.  
Our last encounter ended on such a…jolly note. I would hate for this to forecast in rains of blood.”

“We got that in common.”

“Excellent. Then all you would have to fulfill is forfeiting what we covet, and we shall both egress with our bodies in fully functional states.”

The Major was humored by Cierah’s cynical posture for starters, for it fed her with flashbacks from their initial showdown. But now, as it grows unequivocal that the human is doing more than putting on airs, Reezah’s own frame of mind hardens.  
“Would love to watch that shake out, but I got this ill sensation that I’m not gonna be a fan of your petition very much.”

“Clairvoyant as ever.”

Getting ahead of either crossing the line, Zal stomps her boot into the dirt, attracting their eyes.  
“Muzzle it! Restrain yourselves, both of you. Our quarrel is not with the Republic. Well, not your explicit team, at any rate. We wish to…bargain, is the relevant phrase.”

Reezah’s eyes swing, from Zal, to Cierah, at least twice. This arrival is definitely not out of serendipity.  
“How long have you guys hung out on this world?”

“Long enough.”

“You believe I’ll be sated with an answer like that?”

“No, but your lust for intel is, I’m sad to tell you, not my burden.”

Reezah snorts and the remainder of Havoc, as well as the Barsen’thor’s allies, are wired, ready to pounce if given the greenlight. In this haze of controversy, Nadia looks reluctantly at Kira.  
“Are you now…in the pocket of the Sith?”

The knight nearly flinches.  
“Excuse me? Hell no! Beyond a single doubt, I’m not. The reason I’m chained to Zal is cuz Ktila bid me to.”

Iron is in earshot of the conversation and chimes in.  
“Then master Ktila is truly not on Makeb?”

“Nope. She’s hunkering down with her own project. Something related to…hitting the New Empire, essentially. Jaesa went with her, so she asked me to look out for Zal.”

“Pitch in”, the twi’lek marks. “Not shield me from mortal danger.”

“Those can oftentimes be the same, y’know. And don’t pretend you haven’t loved having me on hand.”

“Tsk. Fine. You’re bearable in the occasions where you actually obey my orders.”

She doesn’t profess it up front, but Reezah is thankful that Zal could mitigate that brink debacle. Even Cierah has flagged her crew to resign.  
“So, now that we got this outta the way, what’s the agenda? Why are you guys here?”

“We are not at liberty to relinquish sensitive material of such caliber”, Cierah fires at her.

“It’d help to disqualify any trigger-happy moods, if you chose to ditch the spooks guideline banthashit for once, however.”

“Indulging in them would avail you little beyond lapses in error.”

“Says you.”

Zal continues, making the call to ignore their squabbling.  
“We can shed light on our goal, if you do the same.”

Reezah aligns a negligible frown towards the twi’lek.  
“What, and we’re just meant to trust that you’ll honor that deal?”

The aggressive remark isn’t patently serious. Reezah doesn’t earnestly feel Zal has earned the hostility, but she can’t say the same for Cierah.  
In the end, the imps luck out, for a different human resists on their behalf.  
“Sir”, utters Elara, “perhaps it would be sensible to heed the context. They did just provide vital support to an otherwise deteriorating operation.”  
As Reezah pans to face the Captain, Elara enlists her sincerest and most understanding eyes. A pair which have won the Major over time and time again.  
“And sidestepping intensified conflict when we can, is beneficial, is it not?”

Reezah nigh curses openly at how effortlessly Elara excels at influencing her rationale. Incidentally, the Captain is also spot on in her assessment. Why fight when you can negotiate?  
“Yeah…I reckon we’ve had enough scrapes for today.  
Zeranz, you wanna do this one, or should I?”

With the implicit go-ahead, Iron nods and proceeds.  
“Our end is simple – we intend to bring the people of Makeb off this planet. I presume you’re under no illusions, but should the news not have reached you, this world is falling apart at its very heart. We purport to save every life that we can.”

Zal visually checks with Cierah, who is gradually inbound, and the agent marginally dips her head. They’re on the same page.  
“A laudable incentive and one which doesn’t merit opposition”, Zal affirms.

“Indeed. I’m pleased you see it our way.”

“But if you’re in the habit of treating us some more”, continues Reezah, “we’d love it if you repay our honesty in kind.”

“A request we can acquiesce”, announces Cierah. “The Empire is present on this world for a last-ditch effort to drain as rich of a stash of isotope-5 as is practical. No doubt you’re familiar with the traits and uses for the substance. It’s integral to defensive departments spanning our nation.”

It’s practically remarkable how confidently Cierah can lie. Well, Zal and some of her subordinates know it’s not the full truth, but not a wholesale lie.  
On the counter end, Reezah is tangibly regretful at the concept.  
“So…for all intents and purposes, you guys are facilitating the collapse of Makeb?”

“Doom for Makeb is incurable at this point, Major. What sense is there in denying it? And why should the hutts be the only ones to profit off its husk?”

Reezah questioningly flips to Elara and Iron, but the former has solely a shrug to spare, whereas Iron vanishes into her own head for a stint, pondering the idea.  
“Well, alright. We won’t interfere”, Reezah tells them. “Providing that you swear not to harm a single nonmilitant native of Makeb.”

Zal presses a hand onto her own chest.  
“Upon my honor as a warrior, I vow not to cause undue agony for the citizens of Makeb.  
As a matter of fact, and a show of goodwill, I’m prepared to tell you that we’re holding a portion of civilian personnel as we speak, which we captured a few weeks ago. They’d surely wish to get off this rock. We could be generous and release them, if you will take our bargain. In exchange, we’ll want information from the engineers you’re escorting. Nothing scary, merely some basic geological survey measurements and approximations.”

“How long would that take?”

“An hour at the max? We can grab your shuttle, fly off to another mesa and complete the transaction. Then we leave in our own directions, unscathed.”

Reezah gestures at Iron and Elara, beckoning for them both to drop by her position. For a minute or two, the three confer on the topic in question, weighing the pros and cons embedded in the predicament and if these people are as reliable as one might hope. Eventually, they come to a consolidated verdict.  
“Okay, yeah. We’re amenable to the trade, but you better uphold your part.”

Zal rears the most charming smile she can muster.  
“We never strayed from our promises on Belsavis, Major. Why would I deceive you here?”

“Fair enough, but every mentor I’ve served with has relayed the lesson that one shouldn’t put stock in Sith words.”

“Then I suspect it is upon me to guarantee this course alters once and for all. If you’re skeptical of the veracity of my claim, bear in mind that Ktila would vouch for my credibility. Doubt me and you doubt her.”

Minutes later, as the imperials gather their forces in preparation for takeoff and the Republic soldiers stand waiting, Reezah splits a couple more sentences with Iron.  
“I’m unconvinced this was the right call.”

“Don’t linger on the crossroads, Major. There are an insufficient number of them accessible for us out here. A fight would have culminated in disaster. This way, we are allocated more of the populace to evacuate and we possess droid specimen for research. It’s all we can ask for.”

“And you’re not the slightest bothered by the ‘we’re about to speed up armageddon’ confession?”

“It is an unfortunate reality, but as they asserted, also an inevitability. The hutts were the ones who sealed Makeb’s fate. To exploit this weakness may be morally dubious, but we should concentrate on saving lives, as opposed to the planet’s stability. In the eons to come, it will splinter and disperse back into the galaxy, to reform amid other celestial entities.”

How…zen of her. Not much of a reassurance for the active world, however.  
“That’s all fine and dandy, but let’s not push the bantha before the cart. There’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Iron tilts her head in an inquisitive manner.  
“You are of the opinion that they have a disparate purpose?”

“They’re imps, Jedi. This isn’t guesswork – I know they do. Wouldn’t come all the way out here for a pure cash grab. They’re up to something.  
But I’ll keep to our agreement and won’t fiddle with it. Stars willing, they won’t execute anything prior to our exit.”


	73. Splintered philosophies (part 06)

The imperial strike force really has to consider itself lucky, or so Zal’riva would phrase it. Weeks in, and neither the hutts, nor their lackeys, have shown any signs of sniffing them out from their orbital hidey-hole. Either the slimy mobsters are doing a very shoddy job of administrating this business, or there’s some other factor they have yet to spot.  
Of course, Cierah would frame it in an altogether deviating and no doubt craftier light, but Zal would prefer to be spared her implicitly condescending remarks on this estimate.

In the aftermath of recent endeavors which bore fruit, the team looped back around to base, in order to dissect their findings, transmit it over their available faculties and crunch the numbers. As Zal is not well-versed into the scientific compartments, it fell on Doctor Nadrin Tro and his intellectual colleagues to sink their collective teeth into the meat and break some fertile and innovative ground. The risks and stakes were and are high, as the very viability of the planet is hanging by a thread – a thread that’s getting carved ever thinner.

After days of debating, arguing and coordinating, Nadrin has allegedly reached a coherent solution that the entire research staff can resonate with and it’s the grounds for why they’ve called their commanders in for a briefing to the main office. All secondary personnel have been relocated to auxiliary tasks and holographic channels are activated for correspondence.  
Katha Niar and Lord Cytharat are both present as well, but they’ve chosen not to amass a complete roster on all sectors. Cierah and Zal are one in the ideology that they should be informed first in line, ahead of the rest.

With their entry, Katha crisply straightens her back.  
“Commanders on site!”

The holograms of each scientist imitate Katha’s gesture, as does Nadrin, but Cytharat only bows in veneration. Cierah’s arms fold under her chest, but Zal props up a hand to dismiss the deference.  
“At ease. We’re here to receive your input on the tactic we’re currently devising. Let’s not dally on formalities. Please, get us on the road.”

As Zal and Cierah park their feet a few meters in front of their cadre, Nadrin and Katha share a pointed look, prior to the neimoidian nodding. It is the human who starts the meeting.  
“Lord Wrath, Commander, thank you for coming. Everyone in this room and over the pertinent channels have been hard at work to compose our new theory. Cytharat and I have already become subject to its ins and outs, and it is…unprecedented.”

“Without overemphasizing”, adds the pureblood coolly.

Cierah’s inherent cynicism is rendered by way of a frown.  
“…it’s dubious how we’re meant to interpret such an introduction.”

Zal pays no mind to her.  
“Don’t keep us in suspense, then. Nadrin, take it away for us.”

He briefly dips his head.  
“By your will, my lord.  
My peers and I are grateful to have been provided such leeway and respect during this arduous proceeding. As you can surely note behind me, we’ve not worked entirely independent, as we exchanged consultation with various imperial science branches. Taris engineering post, Quesh geoservice station, Dromund Kaas special energy center, Jaguada mineral survey headquarters – they are all represented here today.”  
Each of the four mentioned bows; three are human – two men and one woman – as well as a female nautolan.  
“After extensive discussions and deliberations, we have arrived at a daunting accord – Makeb, which was previously held together by isotope-5 deposits, is being destabilized due to the hutts’ industrious mining facilities. Reversing it isn’t possible. Therefore, the Empire has no recourse but to accelerate the fragmentation.”

Zal and Cierah are temporary rendered flabbergasted.  
“…pardon?”, asks the twi’lek.

“It was my understanding that planetary disintegration was a pretense, not our actual goal?”, argues Cierah.

“Yes, undeniably!”, Nadrin confirms, injected with mild nervousness. “Give us a chance to explain!”

One of the human men from the Taris post, the younger with short black hair and a pale complexion, proceeds.  
“The only manner with which to preserve the planet at this point in time is to functionally cause a type of tectonic shell-shock effect. By speeding up the destabilization phase, the overall damage will be contained.”

The human woman from Quesh, possessing a light brown complexion and shoulder length red hair, finishes his side of the report. Her accent suggests an origin from Ziost.  
“The equilibrium of the planet’s core is at present sustaining fissures, which will incrementally fester into true rifts, until an unmitigated cave-in occurs and the planet crumples. Quickening this time frame onto the next cycle will overclock Makeb’s natural rupturing and the core morphs into a new state of equilibrium, a fresh shell.”

The outlining causes both Zal and Cierah to grow speechless for a terse period. Then, Cierah parts her lips.  
“Brilliant.”

“You approve, Commander?”, inquiries Katha.

“Yes. Outwardly, it's a delirious overcharge, a desperate grab for power, but merely until you look closer. If a maneuver of this magnitude falls into place, our enemies won't see the facade for its true colors. Scientifically sound and strategically beneficial – the perfect nexus. This is genuinely nothing short of masterful. Well played.”

Zal appears externally to share the viewpoint.  
“Have to hand it to you and your colleagues, Doctor Tro. I’m equally impressed by your clever spin.”

Getting a word in, the light green-skinned nautolan with black eyes, drabbed in a similar professional attire as the rest, speaks up. Her voice is a tad softer too, and somewhat flat.  
“As lusciously efficient as the plan likely comes off, it is not without caveats, my lord. This procedure will not be a kindly evolution to the planet’s surface.  
Ubiquitous earthquakes, cascades of magma, acid rain and aftershocks that will wreak havoc on the world for months on end. The mesas will disintegrate, the cities will be all but charred husks and the gases vented will transform the atmosphere into a noxious wasteland.”

Though Cierah doesn’t bat an eye, Zal’s expression shifts into somber waters.  
“…you’re not doing yourselves any favors here. This is sounding less and less appealing by the second.”

“This is all we can muster, my lord”, argues Nadrin. “It is this, or total annihilation. No more Makeb. No more isotope-5.”

The final scientist, a male human and senior scientist from Dromund Kaas, pale and practically fully bald, continues this premise.  
“You’ll behold a new Makeb, and as the atmospheric disorder fades, the isotope-5 repositories will be intact and ready for a rich harvest.”

Cierah nods laudingly.  
“Magnificent.”

Zal throws her co-leader a critical glare.  
“And devastating. No people will inhabit this world for thousands, maybe millions of years.”

“Which is precisely what we’re after.”

Is she really so heartless, bereft of consideration for the habitational consequences? Zal had nigh been remiss of who she was knitted to. Hopefully, this does not bring them at odds later down the line.  
Nadrin clears his throat to call for the attention anew.  
“The means to supervise this task is to manipulate the mining lasers which we’ve previously encountered during surveying activities. We have come by the engineers to spare, but the complexity entangled here is that we will require access to the command routines and processing units.”

“Well, the timing is perfect”, posits Katha. “The evacuation of the planet’s population is global. We’ll never have a more opportune moment.”

Cytharat’s brow creases and he lays his arms behind him.  
“I have my doubts. While it is correct that the populace is fleeing en masse, the Archon of the Hutt Cartel has stayed put in the assumption that we are dwelling on the notion to drill for isotope-5. He is an intractable adversary.”

One of Zal’s lekku twitches disconcertingly, while she rubs her chin.  
“Think we can all recognize this isn’t an excellent condition. That hutt is to be reckoned with, indeed.”

“Respectfully, lord, you are in the wrong”, Cierah tells her.

“What, you’d welcome a brawl with the slimy prick? Thought you weren’t fond of hands-on tactics.”

“I’m not, but you do not carry the relevant data, Wrath. Doctor Tro is not alone to have rehearsed a presentation today.  
I can now report that myself and a few of our tech-gifted personnel have been monitoring the communication channels of our enemies. Hence, we’ve produced a recent breakthrough – namely, to pinpoint that Zhorrid has touched down on the planet.”

“Really?”, wonders Zal, with blended caution and fascination. “What rousted her?”

“The details are somewhat vague, but I did eavesdrop on a station-to-station network transmission which referenced an investigation of extrinsic saboteurs.”

“Hmm. This implies to me that she may be of the impression we are skulking around somewhere.”

“It is not a possibility, Wrath, but an absolute. I can guarantee she has figured us out.”

Zal’s features suddenly gain an acrid attribute.  
“…you haven’t bloody leaked anything, have you?”

Cierah, never failing to challenge her, stares back somberly. Or that’s how she wishes it to be perceived. With such a well-crafted camouflage, who can translate her real face?  
“Don’t be a fool.”

“Then isn’t this bad news? We’ve established by now that her forces outnumber us. She could make swift work of this base.”

“And what if there’s a fork in the road?  
I propose that we orchestrate an ambush of our own at a tenable destination. We should devise a pattern with which to lure her in.”

“Here? That’s suicide.”

The human exhales out her nose.  
“No, to another platform. Makeb is water-heavy, but there is still a copious sample of land. Choose a suitable ancillary location, set the trap and then extend the bait. It will be elementary.”

Once more, Zal can’t pick up on Cierah’s clues. Hubris or bravery? With this agent, perhaps it makes no difference.  
“You figure that’s quite necessary? Do I need to remind you that we’re dealing with a former Dark Councilor here, Cierah? She’s eccentric, I’ll grant you that, but not an idiot. You always champion prudence and discretion. Had we not better dispense with some of these qualities here?”

“I am with you thus far, but I never cited this specific term. I would never profile her as witless, but she is a pathologically paranoid individual. Flaunt an enticement she is engrossed by and she’ll never accrue the willpower to resist.”

Zal shakes her head, garnering the impulse that they’re drifting further apart.  
“And do you actually carry a bait that would serve for this given purpose?”

“Carry? Categorically, I do not. But we won’t have to acquire a bait”, she reveals and then spreads her arms. “I _am_ the bait.”

Zal is low-key bewildered by the bold unveiling.  
“Hold a moment. You? No joke?”

“She made no secret of her burning passion to strangle me with her bare hands. Serve it up to her on a gilded platter and she will throw herself at the chance.”

Zal’s brow scrunches up pensively and she reflects on it quietly for a few seconds at most, before coming to a strict logic.  
“It’s too risky. We can’t jeopardize all we’ve accomplished up until now for a mere swat at revenge.”

“Revenge?”, Cierah utters in objection. “Is that what you make of me, Wrath? A creature of petty vengeance? Zhorrid is the commander of the New Empire’s forces here and she is in direct contest with the hutts. They are myopically spatting amongst themselves, endangering one another for the simple fact that they can’t peer past their own noses. Not only can we plunge that wedge into their hearts, but this may enable us to cripple their offensive once and for all, by tearing off the crest of the yozusk.”

While she circumnavigates the accusations, both her conjectures and the pitch in her speech – as well as the emotional secretion that Zal can detect – would bespeak that she’s either shamelessly lying to them, or to herself. Could well be both.  
“But what of Katha, Nadrin and the others?”

“We shall station the noncombat personnel here. For their own security, in a sense, but there are also the discretion layers. Miss Niar and her affiliates can provide greater intel to us from within the base, than we can ingest out on the field.”

Zal isn’t capable of faulting Cierah for this assessment, for once. For the sake of unity, she consults their two seconds.  
“Cytharat, Niar – any words to the wise?”

“I concur with the Commander, my lord”, admits Katha. “She’s dead on in her review of our status. She is more often than not, by my experience.”

The pureblood, in keeping with his predilections, bows for her.  
“I am set to commence with this scheme whenever you decree, my lord.”

Not even a single crumb of a grievance? Zal has mixed feelings, whether she’s being too selective or if they’re all on too stringent of a leash.  
“Hmm. So be it. Then the plans are cemented. The sole outstanding line is how to bridge the two.”

Cierah casually waves at the other Sith.  
“Then I put forward that Cytharat and Captain Clayrom with his Impertinence squad hit the mining platforms, while you and I distract Zhorrid. Patrols will be a minor issue, for she is liable to divert a significant degree of troops to a venture comprising my demise. We will encumber our assets, but the reward at the finish line is grand enough to make the effort worth the hassle.”

“Let’s hope against hope that your intuition hits the mark, for we will only have one shot at this.”  
Zal flicks her hand in a laid-back manner.  
“I’m sanctioning the project. In a few days, we shall either have one less New Imperial upstart to grapple with, or the Empire will have to file a tragic post-mortem.”


End file.
